


Put Your Light Out

by Miss_Lv



Series: Monster Destiel AUs [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Creepy, Hunters & Hunting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bond, Monsters, Nephilim, Nephilim Lore, Obsession, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot Got Into My Porn, Rimming, Sensory Deprivation, Sex with Monsters, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Size Queen Dean, Stomach Bulge, Telepathy, Top Castiel, Voyeur Castiel, Voyeurism, Young Dean Winchester, damn it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 20:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Lv/pseuds/Miss_Lv
Summary: Dean’s long learned every little noise that the night can make. Every tiny hotel and worn rental have their own sounds and Dean knows them all.So he knows footsteps when he hears them.He can recall hundreds of different motels, people walking past the room or up in the room above them. Row houses all attached so they hear their neighbors through thin walls.Dean knows them all.He knows when it’s nothing.He knows when someone is there.





	Put Your Light Out

**Author's Note:**

> Dean's fifteen when he starts sexual stuff. So fyi if that bothers you. 
> 
> Have some weird porn. I was trying to write something short and dirty and then I checked the word count and cussed.

 

Dean’s not a little kid so he doesn’t freak out.

It’s different from mice in the walls and old houses that creak in the wind. Dean’s long learned every little noise that the night can make. Every tiny hotel and worn rental have their own sounds and Dean knows them all. He learns them so he can tell Sammy what it is when the boy wakes up scared.

“S’just the window pane moving in the wind,” he would say and his little brother would calm down and go back to sleep.

Dean knew all the noises.

So he knows footsteps when he hears them.

He can recall hundreds of different motels, people walking past the room or up in the room above them. Row houses all attached so they hear their neighbors through thin walls.

Dean knows them all.

He knows when it’s nothing.

He knows when someone is there.

 

At first, it’s not a big deal, it wakes him up once or twice. Right up, out of the bed and turning on a light to look in the room. There's nothing there every time. Dean figures it must be some jump scare movie he watched resurfacing, some weird thing like that. He calms himself down and goes back to bed. In the motel, Sammy is sleeping in the next bed and Dean comforts himself that his brother is fine.

When they move clear across the state into a little rental Dean still hears it. More than hears it, feels it. Feels someone in the room with him.

The hair on his neck stands on end.

When his dad and Sammy aren’t looking, Dean checks the room. He looks in the tiny closet and peers under the bed. He arranges the room so there’s nothing to hide behind. He checks the window and makes sure it’s sealed tight. He puts a piece of wood behind the one slider, so even if the lock can be undone it won’t slide open.

It keeps happening. Someone in the room, someone watching him.

He never sees it.

He hates that he doesn’t see it.

If he could get a look at it, he would know and it would be fine. If it’s some hulking pervert, Dean will shoot him in the kneecaps. If it’s some wild raccoon he’ll trap it and release it or something.

If he just knew.

 

“Sounds at night?” His dad frowns, Sammy is doing his homework and wearing his headphones, blocking them both out. They're all at the table, doing school work or research.

“Yeah, like footsteps,” Dean shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Sammy said he heard something,” he added quickly.

“Stop watching movies late at night,” his dad decrees with a knowing look. “I’m here every night, have been for the last week. Nothing in this house but me and you two.”

Dean nodded hurriedly, agreeing.

“That’s what I told Sammy.”

 

His dad leaves for work and Dean is in charge. He’s fourteen now and old enough to look after the house for a few days. To feed Sammy and make sure no strangers come around and stuff like that.

When Sammy is sleeping, Dean creeps around the house. He checks every single nook and cranny and turns up nothing. So he goes to bed, curls up in his blanket and hears the footsteps. His eyes snap open and he flicks on the bedside lamp. There’s nothing in the room.

There never is.

But his heart is pounding, Dean is sure something is there.

Only babies believe in monsters though.

Monsters are not real.

Dean makes himself lay back down, keeping still on the bed, staring at the empty room.

After a moment he gets up and opens the closet door so he can see inside it as well.

He falls asleep with his lamp on and the morning sunlight beginning to light the room. 

“Why was your light on all night?” Sammy asks when they have dinner, instant noodles on the stove.

“Fell asleep reading,” Dean grumbles back.

“You don’t read.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I do.”

“Show me the book,” Sammy demands and Dean grins, his big brother grin.

“Nope.”

It’s Saturday so Dean takes Sam to the second-hand store and they browse around. He’s got ten bucks to his name but books are only a quarter a pop. He finds some cool looking ones, about cowboys and a few about space shit. He avoids the horror novels. When Sammy’s not looking he pockets an extra book and throws it in his room when they get back. Sammy is young enough to believe Dean had the book all along.

“Can I read with you?”

Dean looks up from his single bed, worn and drooping in the middle with a single pillow and thin blanket. Sammy’s got his own pillow already and a book under his arm.

“Yeah, alright.” 

Sammy conks out pretty quick and Dean smirks at his face mashed to his book. He gets the boy comfy and then resettles in his spot. He leaves the lamp on and listens to Sammy’s breathing.

The footsteps still come.

Dean wakes later in the day and he rushes to get the little rental cleaned up and dinner on the go before their dad gets back. He feels tired but not enough to make a difference.

With his dad in the house, he sleeps better. But he can’t leave the light on without drawing attention. Dean makes himself turn it out and listens to something in the room with him. He tries to ignore it but he knows it’s there. He stares into the darkness of the room, trying to find it, trying to find something moving. His heart pounds too loudly.

His doorknob turns and Dean nearly pisses himself. He jerks up and Sammy winces when he peers in.

“Sorry, thought you might wanna read again,” he whispers and Dean forces himself to calm down. He nods his head and turns on the lamp.

It goes on for a week or so before their dad catches on and decides to put a stop to it.

“You both need sleep,” he declares and so Sammy is banned from his room. Dean turns off his lamp each night and doesn’t sleep until exhaustion takes him.

His dad watches him and Dean tries to hide it, tries to pretend like he’s sleeping normally. But his dad isn’t a fool. He never was.

Dean hates that he’s scared. That he’s a grown ass guy, almost an adult and something like this is happening. It’s humiliating and if it were Sammy Dean would be mocking the hell out of him. It’s not his imagination though, it’s not some weird thing he’s doing for attention or the million other reasons kids do it.

Something is there, Dean knows it.

“So, want to explain what’s going on? Why aren’t you sleeping?” His dad asks and Dean shrugs. He can’t admit it, he just can’t. He’s too old to be scared of the dark, too old to be afraid of shadows on a wall.

“Just haven’t been able to,” he offers weakly and his dad watches him intently.

 

It’s been months, the first time it touches him.

Sixty-seven days since the first night he woke to the sounds.

Dean curls up on his bed, exhausted. He’s too tired to try and wait for the morning light so he focuses on the old pipes clinking in the bathroom across his room. It’s almost soothing and Dean’s drifting off.

Something runs up his leg, over the blanket, but something solid and there, like a hand.

Dean jolts up and jerks away, his lamp and bedside table falling over as he jumps out of bed. His fingers shake as he tries to find the lamp. His eyes peering into the shadows for whatever has touched him. God, his heart hurts it’s pounding so badly. Fear clawing at his mind, every shadow about to jump out at him.

“Dean?” His dad opens the door, flicking on the light.

Dean can’t hide his fear well enough.

“So-Sorry, just knocked over the dumb lamp,” he lies shakily. He turns away and picks up the table.

“Dean,” his dad rumbles, annoyed to be lied too.

Dean wants to cry.

He’s too old but he wants to cry. He can feel tears in his eyes and his lip trembles. He’s looking down, cleaning the stuff that fell off the table. He bits his lip, hard. He’s not going to bawl in front of his tough dad. God, he’s way too old for that shit. 

He gets back in bed once he’s done and his dad watches him for a long moment.

Dean doesn’t meet his gaze, curling into the bed, knowing he won’t sleep.

His dad hits his light but leaves the door open.

Dean can hear some overplayed movie on the tv in the living room. It’s comforting and he lies there, picturing each scene as he hears it.

He doesn’t sleep.

 

“Are you ok?” Sammy bursts out one day, face screwed up with a mixture of worry and feeling dumb for worrying.

“What?” Dean tries to play stupid but Sammy always sees through that.

“Come on Dean, even dad’s been keeping an eye on you. You like, never sleep anymore.”

Dean shrugs.

“I’m not tired.”

“Do you have insomnia?”

Dean wrinkled his nose at the word.

“What is that?”

“It mean’s you can’t sleep,” Sammy supplies, pulling a book out of nowhere with a page marked on sleeping disorders.

It’s a little annoying to be made into a project, but Dean knows Sammy means well. This is how Sammy worries, trying to solve the problem immediately.

Dean takes a look at the book when Sammy is off to bed, flipping through the pages idly. He doubts his solution will be there but he’s willing to look. He’ll mention a few tomorrow so Sammy knows he looked. Keep the kid happy. What kind of little kid reads books about sleeping disorders to begin with?

A page about demons catches his eye. Sleep Paralysis is listed in a bold title. The feeling of being awake but not able to move. The sensation of something evil in the room, beside the bed or on his chest. Dean stares at the little paragraph and then re-reads it with far more focus.

Dean’s never felt like he can’t move but maybe something like this is happening. Maybe it’s a real illness and he just needs to pop some meds.

“What’s that?” his dad asks and Dean starts a bit, pulled from the book. He’s caught and he knows it so he shows his dad the cover.

“Sammy gave it to me, asked me to read it.”

His dad hums and watches Dean with one of his long looks. The kind that ferrets out the truth.

“Does anything fit?”

Dean shrugs. Feeling awkward and hating to reveal any weakness to his dad.

“Kinda,” he decided, pushing the book over to his dad.

Dean’s chest is twisting, his stomach sloshing about uncomfortably. He hates facing his dad like this, owning up to weakness. His dad expects him to be tough and Dean tries his best to do so. So any little slip-ups feel like major flaws.

Dean watches his dad frown at the page.

“You think something is in your room?” There’s a hint of incredulity to his voice that makes Dean burn in shame.

“I dunno, I just… hear things.”

“It’s an old house, the whole place groans at night,” his dad shoots back, frowning at the book with growing irritation.

Dean tries not to shrink away.

His dad gets up and goes down the hall without a word. Dean follows him and watches the man look his room over, checking the closet and looking under the bed, pulling it out from the wall and pushing at the floorboards. He tugs the old carpet at the corner and looks under it. He runs his hands along the walls.

Sammy comes to Dean’s side at the doorway, silently watching their father looks Dean’s room over. Every little inch of it, more than Dean thought to check. His dad pretty much rips the room apart and turns up nothing.

“We’re switching rooms,” he announces and Dean blinks. Sammy is oddly quiet about the whole thing, helping his dad move everything. Their dad’s room isn’t much bigger, but it’s got a nice bed.

Dean curls up under the blanket, a faint scent of his father deeply reassuring. He feels more relaxed than he has in a long time and so when he hears the footsteps he convinces himself their not real and manages to sleep.

When they get home from school the whole rental is tossed, everything shifted a bit. Their dad is looking over some book that looks old. They're not allowed to look at their dad’s work stuff. One day, his dad said he’d explain but not today. He catches people, Dean knows that much. Like a ranger or a cop, bringing in the bad guy. It’s awesome really.

“Dean, come sit,” his dad commands and Dean goes. Sammy hangs around while Dean gets interrogated. His dad asks him all sorts of random questions, about cold spots in the house and any odd marks on his body. It’s all deeply weird and by the end of it Dean and Sammy are sharing looks.

When night comes, Sammy shows up with a book and flash light. Dean doesn’t say anything sappy, just lets him in the bed with him.

“Did the book help at all?”

Dean shrugs.

“Maybe, I’ll look into it later,” he replied, thinking of the sleep paralysis.

 

They finish up the school year and head to uncle Bobby’s house. Dean knows it’s about him. He’s overheard enough whispers and quiet argument between the two men. They think something’s wrong with him. Bobby wants to take him to a doctor, Dad wants to take him to a priest, weirdly enough.

Dean just keeps his head down.

He sleeps at night but the presence is still there. Dean figures he might just be getting used to it. His heart still pounds every time he hears it but its no longer an irrational fear that eats him up. He’s scared but he’s not freaked.

He keeps his body under the covers, cocoons himself in with only his head peeking out. It feels safer somehow.

 

Just after his fifteenth birthday, things go to shit.

They start traveling again and Sammy is pissed about it. Their dad thinks Dean can handle more responsibility despite his ‘night problem’. So he leaves them with two hundred dollars and a promise to return in two weeks time. The longest they’ve gone without him being there.

Sammy sulks and Dean tries to plan meals.

“We’ll be fine, come on Sammy, it’s like a vacation.”

“Whatever,” Sammy replies with a grumble and Dean huffs. It’s no good, with Sammy getting moodier more often.

“Come on, wanna go get dinner at that restaurant we passed coming in? It looked pretty fancy.”

Sammy tries not to look interested and fails. He likes the nicer places.

So they go to the restaurant.

They stop in at the second-hand store after and check it out. There’s a newer coat that fits Sammy well so Dean splurges and lets him buy it. They look over the books together, their one shared hobby.

The week is good, they have actual fun. The town is big enough to have a community pool and stuff so they go swimming every night.

By the end of the week, Dean’s out of money.

Fuck.

He could call dad but Dean knows he’ll be pissed. They’ve lived off two hundred before but Dean’s been spoiling Sammy a bit. Now he’s messed up.

His dad get’s cash playing pool sometimes, doing bets and stuff.

There’s a bar on the outskirts of the town, where people come and go.

“Nice try,” the guy sitting at the front laughs Dean right back out the door. He can’t pull off twenty yet but he had to try. He wonders if there’s a back way in, somewhere he can slip unseen. Dean’s wicked good at pool, if he can make a bet, he knows he’ll win.

“What’cha doing?” A gruff voice makes him jump. Dean’s checking out the alleyway and he missed a guy leaning on the wall smoking.

“Nothing,” he shoots back gruffly.

The man, older, a kitchen cook or something with a big white apron on, stained yellow from grease, peers at him.

He tips his head, motioning for Dean to come over and despite knowing better, Dean goes. He’s desperate.

“Trying to get in the bar? Wanting to drink?” The man inquires and Dean knows this might be a way in.

“Something like that.”

The guy watches him, waiting for Dean to offer up more.

“Wanted to play pool.”

“Pool-hall down the street for kids. Quit lying.”

“Wanted to make some bets,” Dean admits, hoping the guy will let him in. The man smirks and huffs a smoker’s chuckle.

“Trying to make some money?” The stranger pulls his wallet and it’s fat with cash. Dean tries not to stare as the guy pulls out a wad of bills. He waves it at Dean and he glares at the guy for mocking him.

“Want it?”

Dean frowns, trying to figure the guy out.

He leers at Dean, smirks in that nasty way and it clicks then. The pervert wants Dean to screw him or something.

Repulsed he steps back, shaking his head.

“No fucking way,” he grunts, turning to leave the dark alley.

It catches him off guard, how fast the large guy could move. He grabs Dean’s neck and slams him into the brick wall. His head swims painfully as the man presses against him. He’s big enough to pin Dean with his weight and Dean’s head is muddled from the blow.  

He feels a hand groping him through his jeans.

The man grunts against his neck like a pig.

Then he’s gone.

Dean blinks, his head clearing a bit as he turns around.

The alleyway is empty.

The money is on the ground, the wallet there too.

Dean swallows, knowing something is wrong. He steps back to leave but the bills on the ground draw his eyes back.

He grabs them, scrambling to pocket them and then the rest in the wallet, almost two hundred in all. Dean hastily leaves, looking over his shoulder the whole time.

When he gets home he showers off and feels a bit better. Now that he’s home and safe it feels less real. He checks all the locks and windows before bed. The money is burning a hole in his pocket so Dean hides it. He finds a loose floorboard and pries it up. Just enough room for him to lay the cash flat and hide it securely.

If the cops show up Dean can play dumb. They can check the house and they won’t find shit.

He curls up in his bed, Sammy appearing not long after and crawling in with him.

The footsteps come but Dean’s had a hell of an evening. He’s too tired to care and he falls asleep with Sammy tucked safely behind him. 

Dean spends the rest of their stay looking over his shoulder but no one ever comes. No cops or angry guy shows up. Sammy has a second good week and when their dad shows up Dean had cash left over.

“Good job,” his dad tells him and Dean tries not to preen under the praise. It’s rare for his dad to say stuff like that so Dean feels justified.

They leave the town behind.

 

A few months after that, Dean learns monsters are real.

They’re back in school and Sammy is staying late at some after-school math club. Dean’s at the rental alone while his dad is out after the bad guy.

One minute, Dean’s cooking instant pasta on the stove and the next he’s on the floor. Something is pinning him. A huge freaking man with yellow eyes and long sharp teeth. Right out of the horror movies.

But it’s not a movie and this thing looks demented, its eyes are gleaming with a messed up glee. Like it’s enjoying Dean trying to fight it off. It holds him down like he’s nothing, like Dean’s best attempts don’t even matter.

It cocks it’s head at him, teeth gleaming and Dean just knows. It’s a split second of ‘oh fuck’ and he knows the thing is gonna kill him. Right then and there.

The lights flicker.

The monster goes flying. It literally just gets ripped off Dean and slams into the stove. The boiling water topples and falls over, spilling on the monster that howls in pain. Dean scrambles up and grabs a kitchen knife, twisting to face it just as his dad arrives. He points a gun and shoots the thing right in the head.

Dean jerks away, the sound startling him. He watches it slump down and it’s dead. Like dead, dead. Dean just watched someone die.

He looks away, eyes going down the hall and his heart jumps when something moves. Something large, massive, hulking in the shadows.

“Dean, are you ok? Did it bite you?” His dad’s hands grab him and make Dean look at him. When he glances back, the hallway is empty.

His dad is near frantic, as upset as Dean’s ever saw him before. He looks Dean over three times before he’s satisfied he’s not injured.

The cops don’t come by, the neighborhood isn’t good enough for that. There on the edge of a city and loud noises don’t always bring anyone running.

“Just wait here alright, I’ll be right back,” his dad tells him. Sits Dean down in his bedroom and then he leaves.

He just leaves.

Dean’s shaking all over.

Someone, something, just died in front of him. His dad shot it. That thing was going to kill Dean.

Not some fight or beat down, not a mere threat. It was going to kill him, going to end his life on some dirty rental kitchen floor.

Dean almost died.

His hands shake and he slides off the bed, slumping his ass on the floor. His back rests against the side of the bed and he puts his head in his hands. Tears burn and he fights them, tears are weakness, girly and useless. His dad would never cry.

Dean sucks in uneven breathes and whimpers.

The lights flicker.

He jerks up when they go out, the entire house losing power.

The breaker maybe, it went last week.

Dean feels alone and small, vulnerable and scared in the dark.

The footsteps creak down the hall and he closes his eyes. A tear trails down his face as he listens to the familiar sound. His own personal monster.

“Did you…” he swallows and shivers, trying to get himself under control. “You helped me?”

The darkness didn’t answer but it seemed too in a way. The shadows felt heavy around him. Not like they were trapping Dean, but almost like… an arm around him.

“…Thanks,” he muttered quietly.

It was easier a bit, to sit there with something else with him.

At least he wasn’t alone.

 

Dean doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t tell his dad about the second monster.

The first one was a werewolf his dad was tracking. His dad didn’t hunt deadbeats who broke the law, he hunted monsters. Actual monsters. He was a real-life hero.

“I wasn’t sure about telling you, with everything you… struggle with,” he dad said. 

Dean could translate easily enough. He was still scared of the dark, too much of a baby for his dad to want to trust him.

They go back to uncle Bobby’s house. Sam is really pissed because he’s missing school. Dad puts him in at the one in town to shut him up. Dean is the focus though. Dad and uncle Bobby telling him about the endless world of monsters. A thousand different kinds all out to kill people. Most of them looked human, most of them could blend in. Anyone could be a monster. 

Dean nodded his head and took his lessons. His dad was already teaching him to handle a gun and self-defense. Military training, he had always called it. Since they were little kids. Now he was showing Dean the ropes of being a hunter.

“He’s too young for this,” uncle Bobby muttered at his dad. Late at night when they were supposed to be in bed. Dean could stand at the top of stairs and listen to them argue.

“...Just a kid, he doesn’t deserve this kind of thing on his shoulders.”

Dean couched beside the stair banister, pressing his forehead against it.

“He needs to know, needs to be ready,” his dad growled back.

Dean thought of the monsters all around him, other people were creatures with masks on. His whole world was things wanting to kill. Anyone and everyone.

The footsteps creaked and Dean glanced to his side.

He could feel it watching him.

Unease filled him but it wasn’t the same anymore. It wasn’t that stark fear that made him want to run as fast as he could.

There was a monster watching Dean.

But it had saved him.

 

“Good?” Uncle Bobby frowned fiercely at Dean’s question. Dad would have just thrown a lecture at him so Bobby seemed the one to ask.

“Yeah, like… kinda… good monsters? Less evil?”

Bobby scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“Their called monsters for a reason,” he finally said. “They can seem kind or sympathetic but in the end, they’re all out to do something bad. Most of them eat people Dean, were  the fat juicy cows and they want nothing more than to eat us.”

“So they’re like animals?”

“No. Nothing like that,” Bobby grumbled, annoyed now. “They’re evil Dean, evil sons of bitches that’ll kill you the first chance they get.”

Evil.

What was that supposed to even mean? Evil. Uncle Bobby equated it to wanting to kill. The monster watching Dean hadn’t killed him though, it had saved his life. The opposite of evil.

“I’m not saying we’re friends,” he whispered at the shadows of his room, slumping down into the bed and letting sleep come. He could feel the monster in the room with him, but after so long, Dean didn’t care anymore.

They hunt a Rugaru and Banshee, Dean helping his dad and uncle Bobby find and kill the monsters. He carries a gun around like it’s perfectly normal. He kills things. Takes their lives like it’s nothing.

His dad pats him on the back proudly and Dean grins back. He buries the uncertainty in his chest and doesn’t look at the corpse again. It looks too human, beyond that, it was someone, something that was alive. His dad is hunting down the monsters of the world, he’s a hero. Dean knows that much.

But he can’t help but wonder about the monsters. They’re finding the ones killing people, making them pay. But what about the ones not hurting people. Should they be dragged out and shot as well?

Dean tries not to think about it. He practices his aim and follows orders in his training. He drops out of school and focuses on helping his dad.

He might not be sure about killing all of them, but he doesn’t hesitate to kill the ones they find. They follow a trail of dead bodies, of weeping families and ruined lives. Those ones deserve it. So Dean’s blows off their heads like he’s in an action movie.

If his hands shake a bit in the night, he never tells anyone. 

He’s saving people.

 

The big change comes when Dean and his dad are hunting a Wendigo in a provincial forest. It’s acres and acres of land and plenty of tourists and hikers to enjoy. A prime spot for something that loves to eat people.

“It can sound just like me, if you hear something and can’t see me you don’t follow,” his dad reminds him for the sixth time and Dean nods. They were set up with flare guns to trap and burn the monster to death. Walking along the seemingly peaceful trails that winded all throughout the park. Just scouting for now.  

Nature and stuff, it was nice looking. Uncle Bobby had taken Dean hunting a few times and he liked it. This wasn’t that much different.

Dean approached a steep cliff, getting a good view of the land. The forest seemed endless, how the hell were they going to catch something within it?

“Dean?” His dad calls and he turns, intending to catch back up. But the call came from back where they were walking, not ahead. Why would his dad go back? 

“Dad?” He calls and quiet answers him.

“Dad?”

“Hurry up!” His dad growls, irritation in his tone. Dean took a step towards the path and froze, something feeling off. He pulled his knife from his coat, looking around the thick bushes to try and find whatever was looking at him.

Not his monster.

Dean could feel it.

The bushes shifted and something jumped. A gunshot cracking as the Wendigo stumbled back. Dean’s dad appears from around a tree up ahead, cursing.

“Shoot it!” he snaps and Dean fumbles to grab his own gun.

The creature snarled at him and Dean steps back to avoid it. His footing slips and the gun hits the dirt as Dean falls over the cliff side.

Going down a cliff, just as bad as he heard about.

Dean tucked his limbs in and rolled and slid most of the way down. But it was a big fucking cliff.

He tried to catch himself desperately when he saw the slanted ground suddenly drop. His fingers clutched uselessly at the stone as moment carried him right over the edge.

A clear drop onto rocks. Dean didn’t even have time to swear as he plummeted down.

 

He woke cold and sore. It was night time and Dean was curled up on the rocks, tucked away in a little groove. The stone under him was freezing cold but Dean was hidden in black shadows. He gingerly tried to move and was startled to find he could.

He had busted fingers for sure, his ankle was throbbing painfully as well. But his limbs, his chest, and head were all working. Dean peered up the drop, at least thirty feet.

No way he would have survived that.

“Thanks,” he mutters, looking into the blackness and knowing it was there. It had saved him again. “I owe you again,” he breathes, rolling slowly onto his back and pulling his arms in, curling up a bit and trying to warm himself.

It was late October and he could see his breath in the air. He had on a coat but not a heavy one. Should he stay put and wait for his dad to arrive or try to get up and move?

Was the wendigo dead or alive and looking for a meal.

Dad had said they were unstoppable at night.

Great.

But then Dean wasn’t exactly alone.

He decided on moving, it was too cold to sit around. If he could find a way to lite a fire, it would be even better. But they hadn’t come planning a night trip. Dean would carry a lighter on him from this moment on, he decided.

Teeth chattering a bit, he got up slowly.

His ankle hurt like a bitch and Dean found once he was trying to move, all sorts of aches and pains began to throb.

Fighting the pain and trying to make his numb fingers and toes move, Dean fumbles like a newborn deer. Nearly falling over and leaning on stones for support.

He looks up, wishing the moon was full or something so he could see better. The cliff looked way the fuck up, no way he was going to climb it. So heading back towards the parking lot seems like the plan.

Dean liked to think he managed an hour, likely it was ten minutes before he couldn’t walk. His ankle was messed up and it when he put weight on it it just gave out. His other leg had a scrape on his thigh that was burning now. When he stops, he's panting and despite sweating, he was freezing cold.

Dean hisses as he leaned against a boulder and slowly slid down.

All he had really done, was put himself on display, sitting out in the open now instead of tucked under the cover of the cliff.

Dropping his head against the stone at his back he tries to rub his hands together and get them warmed up.

“Dean Winchester, done in by the cold,” he snorted.

The monster was with him, had been following along the whole time.

“Can you imagine that?” He asks lightly. “Saved me from a werewolf and a cliff dive only to have the cold get me.”

Dean grins and nearly jumps out of his skin when the Wendigo jumped at him. Up and over a huge rock with deadly precision. It was suddenly just there, rushing at him. Dean could barely do more than tense up and it was right in front of him.

He twists his face away, trying to cover it and defend himself in some way.

There was a fight, thumps and growls, not even a few seconds long. Dean dropped his arms and the Wendigo was on the ground, dead.

At least it should be, seeing as it was torn into two pieces, it’s torso laying not a foot from Dean.

“God,” he whispers, staring at the dead thing.

The shadows were heavy around him, but they didn’t feel dangerous.

Dean leaned against the freezing rock at his back and just stared for a long time.

 

He ends up making himself move. The dead carcass beginning to unnerve him. It felt more and more like it was about to get up and attack him. Dean didn’t have anything to make a fire with and he wasn’t boy scout enough to know how to do it with sticks and rocks.

So he hobbles away, walking until he couldn’t see the wendigo.

“Man, you’re extreme,” he breathes, not sure if he was freaked out or grateful, maybe both.

Dean moved until his legs gave out, numb. He didn’t feel too cold anymore which was likely a bad thing. Seeing as the snow was beginning to fall, fat fluffy flakes in the weak light. It looked pretty as hell Dean supposed, finding a bit of a shallow cave to tuck himself in. He curls on his side, tucked up tightly and hoping his dad would hurry up and get there.

At some point, he feels the monster close in on him. Dean was still shivering a bit, his body giving half heart attempts to warm. Dean wasn’t even sore anymore, everything growing blissfully numb.

Not a good thing in the long run but he was too tired to really care right then.

He feels the hands, massive monster sized hands, curl on him and pick him up.

Dean’s vision was swimming, the night dark so he barely saw anything to begin with. Something warm curled over his eyes, closing them gently and Dean was being moved.

Curled up like a baby in a lap.

God, it was so warm, almost suffocatingly so. But Dean pressed into it, pushed his face into skin. Warm skin, a bit smooth and a bit rough. His arms slowly unclenched and reached out, wrapping around the heat.

It was enormous. A huge monster that had to be twice his size, his arms not even winding all the way around it.

Dean sucked in weak breathes and let himself go, slipping into sleep finally.

 

He woke in the back of the Impala, wrapped up in blankets, heat going full blast.

“You’re going to be fine,” his dad told him, looking back at him as he drove. Dean let himself sleep again, knowing he was safe. He refused to wonder if his dad planned that. If he had used Dean as bait to draw out the wendigo earlier.

 

“…not a hunter, just a bloody boy, you nearly killed him,” Bobby was snarling lowly. Dean was pretending to be sleeping still. His dad and uncle Bobby where in the room he slept in at Bobby’s house. Checking him over.

Dean had a busted ankle and got some stitches here and there. He looked like a well-pounded steak and he felt like it. But he was alive and everything was going to heal. 

He didn’t want to deal with the two men arguing. Dean was getting so tired of arguments. Of Dad and Bobby, or Dad and Sammy. So much yelling every day.

 

 

“You wanna go to the movies?” The pretty blond who works at the grocery store asks him one day. Dean’s been flirting with her, with any girl really. Always has.

But it’s different now, something about the way he looks at people has changed. A part of him wonders if she might be a monster in hiding. Another part doesn’t want to lead her on.

That’s the weird part. Dean’s always thought of himself as a love’em and leave’em kinda guy. But he doesn’t feel the same drive to make out with cute girls, to get all the attention. He doesn’t feel lonesome he supposes if he were being sappy.

“I…We move around a lot,” he tells her, feeling awkward and fumbling for once. It’s not a line he’s heard in a movie a hundred times. Not smooth at all. Her face falls and Dean can see that it wasn’t easy for her to ask him.

“I mean, I’d love to catch a movie with you and all, but I just wanna be upfront with you. No hurt feelings later, right?” He offers his best grin and she goes for it, smiling a bit.

“I got it. But the movies would be fun?”

So they go to the movies, some action flick. Dean likes it. He likes movies, old and new ones. Just a few hours of watching the world rather than muddling through it. Movies usually have the good endings, the guy gets his girl, the bad guy goes down.

It’s dark when they get out and Dean walks her, Karen, home. They chat about little things, about Dean deciding to drop school in order to help his dad work. Karen wants to go to university and be a doctor.

When they get to her door, Dean knows how to play the part. He smiles and steps in close, before long he’s kissing her. Her mouth is soft and slick with lipstick. She tastes good and the faint scent of some perfume fills Dean’s nose. Her body is small against his and warm, it feels good.

The light turns on and they jump apart, Karen flushing red.

“S-sorry, my dad, god he’s lame.”

“It’s alright,” Dean tells her and he means it, parents never like him. “See you later?”

She nods and Dean walks away.

The shadows follow him and Dean whistles as he walks.

“She was cute, needs some nerdy guy though, not some jerk who would break her heart.”

Dean stops and looks at the shadows of the evening. He can feel the monster there. Right in a certain spot. But Dean can’t make out a hint of it at all.

“Why can’t I see you?” he asks thoughtfully. He heads down an alley that’s blocked in enough to be dark. Dean can feel the monster following, creeping along with him. It stops but Dean can’t see it.

He closes his eyes and reaches out. He feels something, real and warm under his hand. When he opens them his hand falls forward. There’s nothing there. Dean tries a few more times but every time he looks, the monster fades away. Too fast for him to see anything. Too fast to even get a glimpse. He recalls seeing a vague outline a few times but never anything more.

“What are you?” Dean mutters, his fingers are tingling warmly from touching it. He pressed them to his mouth and wonders why a touch like that was so much more significant than Karen’s kiss. 

Dean doesn’t see Karen again, doesn't want to hurt her.

 

Dean’s dad was undecided if Dean was useful or not. He trained him still but didn’t take him on hunts since the Wendigo. Dean healed up fine but he had no explanation for surviving the night. Just a memory of walking towards the parking lot. But Dean’s dad wasn’t dumb. He knew something was missing, that Dean wasn’t telling him the whole story. The more he pressed and Dean didn’t break, the more his dad seemed disinterested in him, disappointed or something.

Dean felt like crap but he owed the monster, owed it big time. He loved his dad and wanted nothing more than to make him proud but Dean also felt like he had to repay the monster somehow. So he stayed silent.

“For once, I’m not the kid he regrets the most,” Sammy muses and Dean snort.

“Doesn’t regret either of us,” he scolds.

Sammy just shrugged.

“How did your date go?”

“She was hot, nice tits,” Dean offers as he slumps into the couch beside his brother. Bobby was working in the study and their dad was gone for the week.

“Classy,” Sammy grumbles and Dean shrugs, pretending the nature show Sammy was watching was fascinating. He doesn't want to talk about his weird sexuality.

 

Karen was hot. She’d had a really nice smile, something sweet but also a bit sly. Her neck had been long and smooth, leading down to a fantastic rack. Nice ass and long legs. Hot.

Dean laid back in his bed, pulling on his cock idly as he thought of her. He imagines shoving into her, Karen bent over the car or the side of a bed. Jerking off was a rough time with their tiny motels and rentals. Dean was used to shower jerks but a bed was nice too, laid back and relaxed. He thought of Karen’s mouth, wrapped around his cock, sucking away. Dean grunts, wrapping his hand tighter, thumb rubbing over the head and digging a bit rough.

“Fuck,” he breathes, coming. Lazy strokes drew it out, come bubbling down his hand as he hisses out. Relaxing back into the bed he reached for a dirty shirt and cleans his hand off.

A nice jerk before bed did wonders.

Dean felt the monster watching him, pervert.

“Should report your dirty ass,” Dean mutters quietly, already half asleep. The room was dark, the faint light from under the door fading and Dean just yawns. He turns on his side and pulls his blanket up. He got cold sometimes, for no real reason. Like a phantom cold, as if he was back out on the cliff. Heavy blankets felt good now, like their weight was warming a bit more.

Dean was almost entirely asleep when the bed shifted, something pressing to his back. He couldn’t care enough to wake up. Letting sleep take him.

 

Turned out the monster was a cuddle bug.

 

Dean was always almost asleep when it touches him. Nothing pervy, just curling up around Dean. It reminded him a bit of his dad. When Dean was young enough to sleep with him, he’d curl up against the man. Sometimes dad would turn on his side in his sleep and throw an arm around Dean. Tucked in close to his father, Dean had always felt perfectly safe. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he was right there, content and protected.

It felt good. Comforting. Dean slept better, slept more deeply.

So he didn’t mind the cuddle thing.

He did wonder how the hell the monster was fitting on the bed. It was a single and there was no way the huge monster Dean had been held by on the cliff could fit. But it settled against him without fail every night.    

Every night, without fail. Steady and certain.

Dean got used to turning into the wall, shifting over to make a bit of room, not that it mattered.

 

“I wonder if the old west was really this awesome,” Dean muses. They were still at Bobby’s house but with the school year almost out, they would move on soon. Sammy was pissed about it already. So there was fighting every day.

Dean was tired of it. Sleeping late and staying up into the midnight hours. At least then he got some peace and quiet.

“Lazy,” his dad muttered when he got up at one pm one day. It stung, the comment. But Dean was sure if he listened to much more arguing about school and traveling he would go crazy.

Better to be lazy than that.

“I get both sides,” Dean huffs. “Sammy just wants the apple pie life, wants to be top of the class and all that stuff. And dad is trying to save people, waiting costs lives.”

He was laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Then they both want me to agree with them. Want to be right over the other.” Dean rubs his face and sighs. “I don’t actually matter in the scheme of it, just that I agree.”

“Who you talking to?” Uncle Bobby asks, pushing Dean’s door open all the way.

“No one, just grumbling out loud,” Dean replies, sitting up on the bed. “You need something?”

Uncle Bobby eyes him a moment before nodding. “Come help me make dinner, might as well earn your keep.”

“Hey, I clean,” Dean protests as he got up and follows the man.

“Pick up after yourself is common decency boy,” was the answer and Dean grins. Bobby was the only one he could talk to these days. The one who refuses to be part of the fighting between dad and Sammy. Plus he tried to keep his arguments with Dean’s dad away from them.

 

Things get weird one night.

Dean’s jerking off, enjoying the privacy knowing they’ll take off in a few weeks once Sammy’s classes are done. So he tries to get off every night he feels like it. Pulling away on his dick and feeling the answering thrill.

Nothing better.

It’s not about sex or getting with someone, that’s different.

This is just about feeling good, making himself feel good. No one else to worry about, no one else to impress.

Dean likes a little self-care.

He’s on his side, boxers pushed down under the covers. Eyes closed as he imagines some hot chick, thinking about soft skin and how smooth it would feel.

Dean can feel the monster in the room.

He’s used to it now, used to feeling it there pretty much every time it’s dark.

He can feel it close though, breath on his neck.

It should be creeping him out way more, but Dean’s close. He tightens his grip and shoves a bit faster. Sucking in harsh breathes he can feel himself about to come.

A warm wet tongue licks up his neck.

Dean comes twice as hard, gasping out, eye clenched shut.

“That…was messed up,” he announces after a long moment. 

He cleans up and tries not to worry.

The monster is just curious for the most part. Dean can tell. He’s used to the silence having moods. Curiosity is a common one.

Like when Dean eats in bed. Crunching chips. He can just feel the interest. So he leaves a few chips on the nightstand. When he wakes they’re always gone.

It’s not a big deal Dean tells himself.

The next night he doesn’t jerk off but to be fair he’s tired. His dad worked him hard in training, Dean ran at least a mile and jogged twice as much.

The next night though, he goes for it.

If the monster licks him he’ll swat it or something.

Dean’s honestly a bit curious.

He takes his time, more aware that he’s being watched than usual. He can feel the monster observing him. Dean kicks down his blanket and pushes his boxers down to his ankles. He has no idea why he’s giving it a show. But it makes him horny. He wants it to watch.

Messed up.

Dean licks his lips and shoves into his hand. The light from the window fades out and Dean can feel his skin prickle in excitement.

The bed creaks and Dean wonders if he’s the dumbest fuck ever. But his cock is throbbing.

A wet hot tongue runs along the inside of his thigh. A huge tongue, like an animal more than a human. Dean’s toes curl in the blanket, his mind screaming at him but he doesn’t care. The tongue runs over his knuckles, over his ball sack and his cock, leaving saliva behind.

Dean drops his hand away and it licks his dick again, long tongue, flat and oh so long. It curls around his cock like a snake and the sensation surprises him. Dean slaps a hand over his mouth as he groans. A hot mouth engulfs his dick and Dean spreads his legs without thinking.

He comes with a choked sound, the wet spongy heat around his cock way too much to handle.

The monster doesn’t stop after he comes, it keeps suckling. Soft little sensations that make Dean shiver. His cock is throbbing still so Dean goes for it. He rocks into the mouth, thrusting up into it. His thighs are brushing something. Skin that’s smooth in some places and calloused in others. Bits of wiry hair. Like a real monster, something probably terrifying to look at.

And Dean’s cock is in its mouth.

God.

The wet heat retreats and Dean fumbles to wipe himself with his discarded shirt. He pulls his boxers up and the blankets drag themselves up over his body.

“Thanks,” he mutters without thinking. Sleepy now.

The monster curls up against him and Dean lets it, content. 

The thing is, Dean knows it’s fucked up. That what he’s doing is majorly wrong in every possible way. His dad would go ballistic if he ever found out. Uncle Bobby would freak, Sammy would freak, the whole world, in general, would freak.

Dean’s got a monster fuck buddy. He’s got some massive deadly creature hanging around his room at night. That in itself is screwed up. But now he’s like… fooling around with it.

Jesus.

He thinks there should be a sexual crisis in there as well. The monster doesn’t feel feminine. Dean’s almost positive it’s a dude monster. Dean came down a guy’s throat. He likes chicks. Always had, always will. Dean checks out a few guys and they don’t do anything for him. He gets groceries and looks at magazines with hot dudes all over them.

Nada.

Dean’s not even bisexual.

Is he monster sexual?

God.

 

Dean kinda wishes he could say it stopped there. He shoved the monster away the next time it came around and it listened to him. Dean learned he was a monster whisper and it became his trusted pet, a killer he sicked on other monsters.

No such luck.

On either thought.

Because the minute Dean felt the bed shift he was spreading his thighs.

He shoved into that wet hot mouth without even hesitating. He clutched the sheets and covered his mouth and just got off.

The sheer length of its tongue, all slithering over his cock, twisting and smearing spit. Fuck, no girl could ever compare to it. Dean was ruined for blowjobs.

The monster had a snout kinda mouth, like an animal. It could suck Dean’s whole dick like it was nothing and seal its mouth shut and suck. It let Dean thrust as he wanted, slow and careful or fast and hard. It never seemed to care.

Dean put his hand on it once. Just reached down one night. It surprised him how soft it felt. Short hair, like fur more than human hair. A bit of a roundness of a skull. Dean had no idea what it looked like. It was warm though and it was sucking him off. Dean left his hand tangled in the short hair.

Sometimes it just liked to lick him, lapping over his skin again and again. Cleaning his cock and ball, his thighs and ass. Sometimes it’s tongue slipped between his cheek.

It surprised Dean that he kinda liked it.

Getting rimmed.

He rocked lazily onto the feeling of it. A new way to feel good.

The next night, Dean ends up with his ass in the air, face down in a pillow muffling his moans. The tongue started at the tip of his cock. It ran all the way up his dick and over his balls, down into the curve of his ass and over his hole.

Dean’s thighs trembled a bit.

The tongue presses as his hole, pushing with a slow pressure and Dean pushes back into it. He jerks a bit when the tongue went in. Went into his asshole.

Fuck, Dean was so messed up. God.

He pants into the pillow and just felt the tongue go in and in, like it was going to pop out his own mouth.

Messed up, it felt weird. But Dean was horny and ready for anything. He went with it, kinda liked that it was so messed up. Man, he had so many issues.

The curve of something new, a surprisingly soft sensation along the head of his cock catches his attention. Dean reaches without thinking. His hand closes around a hand. An enormous paw of a hand. Dean could barely wrap his fingers around a single digit.

Holy shit.

Why did that make him hot?

God.

Dean could feel rough skin on the outside and smooth skin on the inside. Tough, like a knife wouldn’t cut it. But silky smooth, rubbing over the underside of his dick.

“Yeah,” he shivers shoving into the palm and feeling the tongue in his ass. Sliding back and forth, pulling out and slithering back in.

Dean whimpers like a bitch in heat as he came, rutting into the monster's hand. His fingers still clutching at the much larger hand.

“Shit, God, this is…what the hell’s wrong with me,” Dean mutters, feeling the tongue come free of his hole. His ass felt weirdly…open. Like his hole was gaping. Dean clenches and it felt fine but still…wet…slimy.

It should have had been way grosser than it was.

Dean curls up, the monster dragging his blanket over him and curling up around him. Dean has never noticed the way it felt before. But now he could feel skin, smooth and rough bits, dips and bumps. Hair here and there, on the forearm wrapped around it, a bit on the chest bumping his back. It didn’t feel human though, too large, limbs too long, chest too barreled.

Dean was sleeping with a monster.

He wondered why it didn’t bother him more.

 

They leave Bobby’s place with a huge fight, Dad and Bobby cussing each other out. Sammy sat in the back, crying angry tears and refusing to say a word. Dean sat in the front, not bothering to try and mediate or help. There was no point.

They arrived at some motel and their dad leaves right away. He said he was going to research but Dean knew it was likely he was heading to the bar. It was almost one in morning, what the hell was he going to research?

Sammy sat on his bed, face blotchy and still so angry.

Little ball of rage, that kid.

“Dude, just tough up,” Dean tells him with a sigh. “Wanna order pizza?”

“Tough up?” Sammy scoffs.

Dean hesitates, thinking about just keeping the peace. But he was so tired of it. The only good times he had was with a monster. A freaking monster, with it,’s monster tongue in his ass. Their lives were so messed up. Dean can’t even pretend it was alright anymore.

“Yeah. You’re twelve now. Shit sucks but you’ve got like your future and stuff.” Dean sat on the bed beside his brother.

“You’ve got the brains, Sammy, you're gonna go places. End up in some fancy university with a big degree. Right now it's hard… it really sucks,” Dean admits. Feeling bad for even voicing it, daring to speak it. Because it did suck. It was shitty motels and ever-changing faces, killing and pain. Dean hates it. But they were saving people and his dad needed him. Needed help with the little things at least.

“But one day you get to make the choices and you can do whatever you want.” Dean explained and Sammy eyed him, nodding sulkily.

“So, pizza?”

They watched an old classic movie, Ivanhoe. It was overplayed on the history channel and so they spoke the parts along with the characters back and forth.

Sammy was cheered up in the end, smiling a bit as he went to bed. Dean settles with him on the double. He kinda missed the monster’s heat but Sammy was right beside him.

Dean dozes off, feeling the monster beside the bed, watching over them.

 

Life went on.

Dean looks after Sammy and helps his dad. He gets left behind usually but he didn’t care much anymore. His dad was lost in his hunting. Dean could see that much. John Winchester was obsessed. All Dean could really do was help him out where he could. He made dinner and helped Sammy with his homework.

“You could easily graduate,” Sammy grumbles at him as Dean explained the math.

“I could, but this way I can help dad with research and stuff. You get dinner when you get home and a nice clean motel,” Dean waved at the shabby place mockingly. He didn’t mind it most times, it was just a pain sometimes. People who hung around motels were far from good people. They were creepy and usually up to no good. Dean knew more about affairs and prostitution than he really should. More so for drug deals and black market trades. Motel parking lots were just the place for it all.

“What do you do all day?”

“Research for dad. Practice with the knife and gun, train and stuff. Whatever dad wants.”

Sammy grumbles at that but went back to his homework.

“I bet you just lay around all day and flirt with girls,” he mutters and Dean huffs a laugh at him.

Thing was, during the day Dean would close the curtains tight. He would hit all the lights and bury his face in a pillow. Eventually the shadows would get darker, thicker. The room would be black and Dean’s monster would come to visit.

Dean had a monster.

One he had never seen.

“Are you like… sentient? Or whatever. Do words make sense to you? Or are you like an animal?” Dean frowns at the idea. He hadn’t seen or heard of monsters that weren’t intelligent. They were always human smart.

“What do you do when you’re not here? Do you kill children or something? Do you eat people?”

Dean wonders worriedly. He didn’t think the monster did though. Something about him was more like a puppy than a killer.

The motel was pitch black, Dean was laid out on the bed, naked from the waist down. The monster was hovering over him a bit, Dean’s hand buried in its hair. Or fur. Whatever.

Snuggle time. The monster loved it.

“Seriously, I feel like I need to be more…I dunno, knowledgeable or something.”

Dean sighs, but didn’t really think too much about it.

It was easier not to.

He had enough shit with his dad and Sammy, Dean didn’t want to ruin the only good sort of thing he had.

And it was good.

Not just the sex, which Dean admitted was really spectacular. Who would have thought he’d like a tongue in his ass as much as he does?   

But beyond that, it was kinda nice to know he was safe. That some monster wasn’t going to get the drop on him. Dean had back up. He stopped wondering if every person he met was secretly a monster. Stopped caring. As long as they weren’t hurting anyone it wasn’t his business.

So off they went, Dean spending his days trying to protect Sammy and look after their dad as well. Trying to be a mother and a father and a good son and stable support. Some days the monster was the only thing that got him through the worst of it.

Dean would go have a shower and turn out the light, block the tiny window if there was one. He would step under the hot water and close his eyes. Relax into the feel of the monster behind him, holding Dean up. Sometimes Dean fooled around but most days he just leaned back. Just took shuddering breathes and blocked everything else out.

No arguments, no struggling to make ends meet, to make a meal last three days. No days going by with his dad not answering his phone, no wondering if he was even alive. No world pressing down on him, sucking the air from his chest.

The darkness was calm, it swallowed everything down and Dean could just be for a bit.

It felt like a mere minute before the water ran cold and he had to stumble back into the world.

His brother and father usually waiting outside the bathroom, demands on their tongues. The ones Dean would do everything to fulfill. Never mind himself, looking after his family was the most important thing. Dean would take care of them.

 

Dean gets caught stealing.

He’s sixteen, almost seventeen, and he get’s arrested. Their dad is late and the food is short. Dean spends more than he should have, buying up organic stuff because Sammy liked it best. Their dad never bought it so Dean liked to spoil him sometimes. But he’s shit at keeping track of money. He always ends up giving too much and screwing himself over.

So he tries to break into the corner store at night.

It’s a small town and he doesn’t expect silent alarms and high tech stuff. Turns out the owner is really into electronics.

Dean tries to run and ends up caught.

Worse, Sammy ends up getting dragged along.

“What were you doing there?” Dean demands when they were stuck in the back of a car together. Cops and social services circling.    

“I was seeing what you were doing,” Sammy replies. Dean could sniff out a lie a mile away on his kid brother though.

“And the real reason?”

Sammy puffs out a breath, fidgeting before giving up the fight.

“The motel was freaky,” he mutters, embarrassed to admit it.

Sammy just learned about monsters, twelve years old and aware of it all now. He took it ok-ish, he started reading dad’s hunting books. He liked learning and so he picked up lore and knowledge all over the place. It was as close to Dad approving of Sammy as Dean had seen in too long. They almost got along some days.

But every now and then, Sammy got freaked out. He never told their dad, just went and hung out with Dean. Stuck close and glanced behind him worriedly. So Dean let him, reassured him that nothing was gonna get them. They would check the salt lines and the protection stuff their dad had. It calmed Sammy to see them.

“The only thing freaky about that motel was the owner, I swear if he wasn’t some sort of swamp monster in hiding,” Dean snorts and Sammy smirked a tiny bit. “Well, that and the smell, that carpet as seen some shit.”

“God, don’t think about that,” Sammy wrinkles his nose now and Dean grins.

 

They got put in a boy’s home.

A guy named Sonny gave them a room to share, two single beds and two dressers. Their stuff from the motel was delivered in a box.

Dean had called dad and he had been livid. To put it lightly. When it became clear no one was rushing to pick them up, people got that sad look in their eyes. Dean hated the pitying look.

Now they were in a halfway house for sad boys.

Dean was forced back into school.

Sammy went more willingly, curious about the change of pace. The house was nice enough, a big kitchen and living room. There were schedules for everything and movie nights. Homework hour and stuff. Of course, Sammy ate that up.

Dean supposed it was nice in a way. There was a lock on the bedroom door.

Sam hung out in the common room, he had actually hit it off with a few boys his age. They had a dead mom and no show dad as well. They were both nerds too, homework and school projects galore. Dean left them to it.

He locked the bedroom door and pulled the curtains shut.

His monster was the only thing that felt real.

The only thing that never changed.

Dean sighs into the pillow, fluffy and clean, no suspicious stains or smells. His monster’s tongue feels so good. Licking up his cock and balls, slinking to his asshole. Dean took his dick in hand, jerking off as the monster ate his ass out, God, that tongue.

Thick powerful fingers close over his own and Dean obliges, moving his hand so the monster could jerk him off as well. He was in the usual position, ass up and face down. Rocking into the pleasure.

“Come on,” he pants softly, thrusting into the smooth skin and pushing back on the wet tongue. Saliva was running down his ass, over his balls and dripping along his cock. It made the motions glide perfectly and Dean shivers as he came hard. 

Gasping a bit, he fell onto his side, shifting as the monster curls up over him. Pressed close, Dean just rested for a bit.

 

High school was a pain in the ass but there wasn’t anything else to do. So Dean went, he bad mouthed the teachers and winked at the girls. He did his homework because probably Sammy would like cry if he didn’t. Dean helped out in the kitchen and with cleaning when his name came up on the schedule. After the first week, it seemed to fall into a rhythm.

Dean spent a ton of time in the room with the door locked.

Sammy never mentioned it but Sonny watching him with worry. Wanted Dean to participate more and crap.

“Just hang out for a bit, he’s just worried,” Sammy yawns as he crawls into his bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mutters back.

 

Dean woke up lazily, Saturday morning was meant for sloth he figures. Sammy was up and about already. Dean stretches out on his back, his hand clutching paper.

Frowning he peered at the crumpled page in his palm.

It was a thin paper, printed small.

‘Genesis 6:1-4’ was printed in the corner, telling Dean it was a page from a bible. He eyes Sammy’s empty bed and got up and dressed.

“What’s this about?” He asks, bouncing the paper ball off Sammy’s head. His brother glares at him before opening the page and reading it. Dean gets himself something to eat while he waits. It's nice to have food on demand.  

“It’s about Nephilim?” Sammy replies with a confused frown. “Says right in the passage, Dean.”

“Got that. Why did you leave it in my bed?”

Sammy shakes his head. “I didn’t.”

“It just appeared there?”

Sammy shrugs, looking around the quiet kitchen, everyone already up and out for the most part.

“I dunno. But I didn’t put it there.” 

“Sure.”

 

Dean did some chores and went to the library with Sammy. Talking to people and smirking at girls. Once he was satisfied he had enough social interaction to appease Sonny, Dean went home. He hopped into the shower and lazily jerked off with the monster licking his neck.

 

“No one fessed up to leaving the page in our room,” Sammy greets him that night. “I mentioned it to Sonny too.”

“Sammy, I know it was you. No way it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have slept through it.”

“Well, maybe you’re more at ease here. Relaxed and sleeping deeper.” Dean spares him a dirty look.

“Anyway, I looked up Nephilim in the library today.”

“Don’t think angels are something we gotta worry about, kiddo.”

“Nephilim were different though. They were abominations.”

“Oh? Fugly dudes?”

“Haha, Dean. Angels married humans and had kids, like messed up giant kids.”

Dean feels something in his heart wobble weirdly, a missed heartbeat that burns in his chest.

Giants.

“I looked up some books beyond the bible, into hunting stuff.”

“Oh? Angels gonna descend?” Dean tries to joke but his voice wasn’t at the right pitch and Sammy knew it.

“Nephilim in lore are angels and the descendants of Cain’s kids. Like Cain and Abel. They were born powerful but misshapen, not angels and not human, somewhere between. The lore I read said that a Nephilim has never been actually documented, just sighted over the centuries.”   

“Huh. Very educational.”

“Dean,” Sammy glares. “Why would someone leave that in your bed?”

“No clue? Weird hazing prank or something?”

Dean let Sammy fuss, playing dumb while silently freaking out.

 

“Are you a Nephilim?” Dean asked the next time they were alone. The shower raining down on his skin, the monster at his back, pressed close. It was dark but Dean could see something move in front of him. A hand reaching out to settle over his eyes. Dean obliged in closing them.

“Can you talk?” He questioned quietly. Dean didn’t want to know, didn’t want this to turn into anything more. It was simple right now, the only thing easy in his life. But he knew he couldn’t turn a blind eye anymore. This was turning into something big, not just a run of the mill monster. Dean wasn’t dumb, he knew ignorance could lead to really bad things. He had to know.

He had to look after Sammy. And the kid was on the trail now, watching Dean like a hawk, figuring him out.

A sound like a radio frequency made his ears sting. The tub under him rattling, everything in the room shifting a bit and stuff falling.

“Was that an earthquake?” Someone outside in the hall shouted, people running.

“Take that as a no,” Dean mutters, pushing away from its warmth and getting out of the shower.

 

They didn’t stop screwing, Dean still shoved into its hand and came with its tongue in his ass. He still whined and whimpered. Once they were done, he curled up against it and wondered when he would lose it. When everything would crumble down.

 

Sammy was unexpectedly the catalyst.

The kid couldn’t leave anything alone and he knew something was up with Dean. He knew it was connected to the bible page.

Dean felt it when it happened. One minute he was loitering his way back to the house and the next he could feel a sudden gaping absence.

After years, Dean knew right away what was wrong.

The monster was gone, no longer trailing in the evening shadows.

Dean ran back to the house. He felt exposed and vulnerable without it watching him.

The room he shared with Sammy was locked and he rattled the door, trying to pull down the panic rising in him.

“Open up, now Sammy,” he barked and his brother moved inside. The lock clicked and Dean pushed into the room, staring at the little symbols drawn on a ratty piece of carpet laid on the floor.

“Did it work? I followed the ritual perfectly and I think I felt something,” he chatters, voice excited.

“What did you do?” Dean fought to keep his tone natural but he could hear the heavy edge. Sammy did as well, his almost smile fading as he stared at Dean.

“I…I banished it. I got rid of the Nephilim.”

“Banished…you sent it away? ...Can you... bring it back?”

Sammy stared, his face falling as he shook his head in negative. He stared at the little circle he had drawn, symbols in place perfectly no doubt. “I didn’t. I thought…”

“He’s gone,” Dean breathes, leaning back against the wall, slumping.

“It was a monster,” Sammy said, confused, just a little kid who didn’t get it at all.

“Never mind, doesn’t matter,” he manages to reassure his brother, pushing from the wall and slinking from the room. He grabs a towel and hit the shower, the only place Sammy wouldn’t follow.

Dean hit the lights but the weak light from the window and under the door remained. The shadows stayed normal.

He didn’t come.

He covers his mouth, fighting the tremble of his chin.

Dean was too old to cry.

He was tough and manly and not some girly bitch.

Who cried because a monster was gone?

 

Sammy was apologetic through and through. No stubbornness or insisting he was right. He knew enough that he had screwed up big time. Dean supposed he was grateful for that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in the night, curled up in his bed facing Dean while he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. “I thought I was helping.”

Dean grunts in reply, acknowledging it. “I know, don’t worry about it. Just go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Sammy insists, all whimpery voice and Dean just knew he had on those puppy dog eyes.

“S’all right,” he repeats, tired. “Just go to sleep.”

“I just… I like it here. I really, really, like it. I love dad and everything. But…I’m so tired of always leaving. I just…I wanted it to be perfect. I thought if something was hanging around we could get rid of it. Just for a bit. Dad will come eventually. But for a bit… I just wanted it to be good.”

“Dad saves people.”

“He left us here, dumped us, because you got hauled in by the cops. Dads… he is a hero Dean, I know that. But… he can be a hero and a not that great dad too. I love him. But I just…I dunno.”

Sammy trails off, tucking into his blanket more and Dean stares at the ceiling.

 

He sleeps like shit. Woke up tired all the time and so spent a lot of his free time napping. Dean hadn’t realized how much time he spent with the monster until it was gone. Hours of his day with nothing to do suddenly. Dean feels on edge, like without the monster there something was going get him. He feels exposed and hates it, he gets jumpy and pissed that he's nervous.

So he sleeps. Can't be a hot mess if he's not awake?

 

It was about two months since they had first arrived and their dad hadn’t come for them.

Sammy spent all his time loving the boy's house and Dean mostly slept and skipped school.

“You were doing good,” Sonny observes one day, everyone doing something else. Just the man and Dean in the kitchen. “You seemed to have it all figured out. Enough anyway.”

Dean shrugs, watching the microwave heat his food.

“Your brother is all worried, thinks something happened. Did something?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, rubbing his neck. His eyes were heavy, Dean wants to eat and go back to bed.

“I think it does. If it’s upsetting you that it matters a lot.”

“So what? You can’t fix it, I can’t, no one can.”

“Giving up pretty quick there?” The man raises a brow at Dean. “I don’t know what’s going on but you need to look after yourself. Before anyone else, before Sam even. You can’t help anyone if you can’t even handle yourself.”

“Got it.”

“I mean it. And you don’t know I can’t help. You and Sam are different, with stealing salt and carving things into the bedposts. But I don’t think you mean trouble. If I can help you Dean, I do want to.”

Dean nods, grabbing his hot bowl and escaping.

Sonny had been good to them. Had helped them out and Sammy was on cloud nine in the place. Dean supposed he owed the man that much.

 

“What’s Sam up to?” Another boy, Ryan or something asked and Dean paused in the hallway. He hadn’t made friends as much a Sammy but he knows most of them enough. They were all decent kids. Dean raises a brow in question and the boy shrugs.

“I just saw him headed out to the old Caltra place.”

“Caltra?”

“Fancy old house. Nutball lady at the edge of town lives there. Supposedly a witch. People say she eats cats.”

“Awesome,” Dean replies.

 

The house was worn down and old but not decrepit. Needed the lawn mowed and weeded, but again not an obvious monster place. Still, Dean was on high alert, painfully aware he was alone for the first time in a long while. It made his nerves on edge.

He knocked twice and when no one answered he tried the door.

Locked.

Looking around and seeing no one watching, Dean broke the glass panel beside the door. Reaching in, he flicks the lock and slips into the room.

He was unarmed pretty much, a kitchen knife his only weapon.

The house was eerie and still.

“Dean?” He nearly jumps out of his skin, jerking around to find Sammy there.

“What the hell,” he growls at the kid, stalking over to him. “Why are you here?”

“I was getting help,” Sammy explains, painful earnest.

“Sammy,” Dean sighs. The kid was gonna be the death of him. 

“He does mean well,” a new voice offers and Dean turns to find a woman leaning on a door jam. She was older and just reeked of not normal. But there wasn’t an obvious evil about her either.

“Sorry for bothering you,” Dean offers with a smile, reaching a hand to grab his brother and lead him from the house. He grips Sammy hard enough to make him follow without a word.

The windowpane he had smashed in was fixed, he notices as they leave.

They hit the street without incident and Dean speed walks them down the block. 

“God Sammy, that was beyond dumb. She could have killed you. She could have killed us both. Dead. You can’t mess with this shit,” he rants, fear still scratching at the edge of him. They could have both died so easily a moment ago.

“I know, I checked her out. No ones died around here weirdly or gone missing, nothing supernatural. Most people think she's a psychic or a scam.”

“Not enough, you can’t just decide something like that and take a chance. Damn it. What was she? A witch?”

Sammy nodded.

“I asked her to help, if there was a way to find the Nephilim.”

“Sammy, let it go. Stop it. Just don’t do something like that again.” Dean stopped them on the street, making his kid brother face him. “Seriously, don’t go get yourself hurt because of me. That would make everything so much worse.”

Sammy shrugs, lip pulled into a pout.

“The witch said she might be able to, but it was hard to find something like that.”

“Then let's just take it as a sign to leave it be?”

A long stubborn pause before the kid’s shoulder’s slump.

“I just wanted to help,” Sammy mutters and Dean ruffles his hair until he bats his hand away.

“I know, come on.” Dean led them back Sonny’s house. The back of his mind wondering what the witch knew. If she could actually find the monster. Dean would look into it maybe. Later, once Sammy was safe and back on track.

 

Dean was in a field.

It was night and the moon was full, casting light. There were torches as well, laid out in a rough circle. In the center of it was a stone table, low to the ground.

Suspiciously altar like.

The witch was waiting, a long dagger in her hand.

“We must make an offering,” she explains to him, gesturing him closer.

Dean goes, walking barefoot towards her. He has his jeans and a shirt but no coat, still the fall cold doesn’t bite at him. He feels fine.

“Cain offered harvest, grown by his own hand,” the witch had a satchel of flowers, dumping them over the stone. “He offered blood in his rage.”

She reaches out a hand and Dean responds.

He knew he should stop but something in him refused. It feels off, like a dream where he's watching more than doing. Like it's not him in control. He gave her his hand and watched her cut his palm. Just enough to make the blood run and splatter on the stone.

“At the end, remember who helped you,” she told him, staring at Dean intently. “Remember who gave freely.”

She reached out and took his head, pushing him down to his knees. Dean’s hands landed on the stone, it felt weird, like it was pulsing and alive. 

“You need only speak his name.”

Dean frowned at the stone altar, flowers and blood scatted over it.

He didn’t know the monster’s name. Didn’t even know if it really was a Nephilim. Maybe it had just left, had enough of Dean and took off.

Just left him.

Like dad.

“Focus,” the woman snaps and Dean huffs in reply. His voice was gone and he couldn’t move but he tries to make her understand.

He didn’t know.

They had never even spoken.

The monster screeched and make the ground shake when it tried to talk.

They had just… just been. A shadow following Dean, the darkness swallowing him whole and keeping him safe. A dead wendigo and a warm body pressed against his own. Dean’s aches soothed away. His loneliness held at bay but the presence. The footsteps telling him he wasn’t alone. It had been scary at one point but it was calming at the end.

Dean missed the monster.

He clenched his eyes closed, blocking out the light.

He wants the darkness, wanted pitch black.

It made him feel safe.

Dean’s hands drifted, they touched his stomach and slid down.

He couldn’t stop them.

He cupped his dick and felt it answer the touch.

He lowered his head in shame, pressed his brow to the unyielding stone. He undid his jeans and curled his fingers around himself, thinking of the monster’s touch.

God, Dean had long given up on girls. They were soft and amazing but the monster was dangerous and exhilarating. It made Dean want things that scared him. He trembles as he shoved into his own fist. Recalling the tongue on his skin, long powerful hands along his thighs.

He missed it.

Dean hadn’t touched himself since the monster vanished. It wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t feel right.

He was alone again and he hates that. He hated being left behind. Not enough. He tries so hard. To please his dad and to take care of Sammy. Dean just wanted them to be happy. To be happy himself.

The monster made him happy. Made him feel safe and wanted, made Dean feel good and held him close.

The stone under him shivers but Dean keeps his eyes closed.

He focuses on the breath on his neck. Like it was real. Like the monster was back.

Dena could feel it, puffing on his skin. He could feel the heat radiating from behind him, the monster looming over him, curled protectively.

God, Dean loved feeling protected. Not the one standing strong and sure, the one curled up and kept. Safe.

The monster’s mouth nuzzled at his neck, that long tongue swiping over his skin.

Dean groaned, eyes clenched tight as he hissed out as he felt himself about to come. The rise of pleasure, the throbbing taking over everything else. All the matters was how good it felt. The mouth on his neck. Moving, speaking almost, a painful sound ringing in Dean’s ears. He shudders as the monster cradled itself over him, pressing to Dean’s back possessively.

The weight of it made him come, Dean chokes out a cry as he spills over his hand.

The ringing made his ears bleed but he heard it, heard something distant and breathless. Like a raging storm rattling the windows and wall of a house, something powerful. 

“Castiel.”

 

Dean snaps his eyes open, jerking up in his bed.

He pants for air and looks over to find Sammy sleeping on. The house was still, everyone in bed. There was no danger, no threat. Dean sucks in uneven breaths. Running a shaky hand through his hair. He settles himself, calms down. His breathing evened out and the dream faded back.

Dean laid back on his pillow, his boxers were sticky with come.

Weirdest fucking wet dream ever.

Dean pushes his blanket off and staggers to the bathroom. He cleans himself up with toilet paper and washes his hands. He leaned over the sink, staring at his reflection.

“Get it together.”

Sonny was right, Dean needs to get his shit together. He was more than some dejected sad soul from a bad romance novel. Dean might have read a few now and again. Stupid things. Happy endings for all.

He looked back at his reflection and felt better. Felt more like himself. He stood up and thought of the dream, of the monster at his back and the ringing in his ears.

Dean eyes himself.

“…Castiel?” He says softly, feeling stupid.

The light flickered.

Darkness swallows him and the heat curled around his back.

Dean couldn’t fight a relieved smile, slumping back into the monster’s body. It felt happy to see him, feels relieved as well. Pleased, crowding Dean urgently.

Clawed hands ran over his chest and Dean arches into them. The monster was a touch frantic, claws scratching a bit. Dean didn’t mind. 

“Missed you,” he breathes, twisting around in the hold. Dean’s hands reached out and cupped the monster’s face. Not human and not animal. A muzzle but a short one, lips, a long tongue, jagged teeth. Dean’s fingers explored and after a moment he leans up, pressing a hesitant kiss.

The monster pushes back, clearly not knowing how to kiss at all. It licks Dean’s chin and he smiles despite himself. God, it felt good to be back with him again.

“Castiel,” he mutters. “That’s your name?”

It nods.

Dean feels it nod and a thrill raced up his spine.

First communication, an intelligent being.

“You can understand me?”

Another nod.

“Always?”

A negative.

“Only now?”

A nod.

“Because…” Dean’s mind turned over the dream, the ritual and blood. His dad always cautioned him about blood, any part of his own body. It could be used in magic. It was dangerous.

“Because of the ritual? That witch?”

A nod.

“Huh,” Dean blew out a breath, blinking and shifting when the monster lifts him. It settles his ass on the edge of the sink and his boxers slide away.

Dean couldn’t even make a snarky comment, spreading his thighs immediately. That hot tongue slithered down his neck and chest. Along his stomach and over his cock. Castiel lapped at it, tongue gliding, such a good feeling. Dean sucks in a breath as he got hard right away.

He didn’t last long. In the blackness of the small room, legs thrown over the monster, calves feeling rough skin and wiry hair. Dean sucks in quick breathes and the first long swipe over his ass made him come.

“F-fuck,” he hisses, leaning back against the mirror.

A sudden unexpected pain made him jerk. The monster’s mouth on his thigh, teeth digging in slowly. Dean winces but clamps his mouth shut as the bite slowly pushes down harder.

He felt his skin break and moans. Actually moaned out. His cock twitching despite the pain.

Maybe because of it.

The teeth pull away and a tongue licks apologetically.

Dean manages to get off again, feeling the monster lick at the bite. It helped him out, pressed its huge paw like hand to Dean’s cock and let him rut against it. It’s tongue slithered into his ass, hit that perfect place and Dean was coming.

It was getting light out when Dean stumbles from the bathroom. He staggers to his bed and slumps down, pulling his blanket up tightly.

It was a Sunday so he could sleep. He could wait until Sammy was up and lock the door. Let the monster eat him out again.

The world felt right again.

It was fucked up for sure, screwed up and wrong. But Sonny was right. It was his and Dean wanted it. He served that much.

 

If felt different, knowing Castiel was a proper person. Monster person. Whatever. Not that Dean hadn’t thought he wasn't before. It was confusing mostly, with Dean not sure of anything. All twisted up and not sure what to do. Emotions were like that though, complicated. Either way, Dean felt weird about the sex. Not in a way that he didn’t want it or anything. Just that there was two of them and only Dean was getting off.

“God, I need therapy,” Dean mutters, realizing he was trying to figure out how to get a monster off. A happy ending for everyone. Dean wasn’t opposed to getting screwed he supposes. He did thoroughly enjoy a tongue in his ass and one would think a cock would only be better. Of course, the moment entered his head it refused to leave. He found himself wondering what it would be like. Would it feel good? What would a monster dick even be like?

Dean decides to find out.

Sammy, bless his nerdy heart, has joined some evening school club about math. Which means he stays late on Wednesdays.

So Dean locks the bedroom door and Castiel is on him right away. As if he can just tell Dean’s all randy. The darkness is welcome and Dean leans back against the monster for a moment, just relaxing.

“Come on, I wanna try something,” he directs and when he nudges the monster lets him go. Dean wonders when he stopped worrying about that. When he stopped being afraid. He trusts this thing; a monster he’s never even seen.

“I don’t know if you even have a dick,” Dean realizes. He crawls on the bed and undresses, yanking his shirt off and kicking his jeans and boxers. “But I feel guilty lately, being a selfish guy.”

Dean leans back on the bed, feels it dip as Castiel crawls on the bed with him.

Before Dean can say anything, those massive hands lift his ass, tip him up so his knees come to his own chest. His ass on display with access to his cock too.

Dean groans with that first perfect lick. A long smooth heat running over his asshole and up to his balls, along his shaft and right to the tip.

He’s already hard.

It’s more profound this time, knowing what he’s gonna try. Dean’s cock is throbbing in record time and he can even admit he whimpers a bit.

Castiel’s long tongue presses into his asshole, that first little give always feeling so damn good. Dean makes himself relax into it, letting it happen. That wet slither inside him. Way longer than a human. Dean feels opened up and the monster’s saliva is thick and gooey, making a wet mess.

Reaching out, Dean bypasses his cock and carefully touches his hole. He can feel the wet heat of the tongue lapping down deep. Two fingers on either side, Dean eases one in a bit, alongside the tongue.

He makes these breathy sounds, can’t stop them as he holds his own ass open with two fingers, stretching the rim.

Castiel seems to get something new is happening. A massive hand cups Dean’s ass and the tongue goes even deeper, like outrageously deep.

Dean comes all over his stomach untouched. He pants a bit, feeling the haze of sex fade a bit. He still wants it though.

The monster eases his tongue back out, licking Dean’s stomach clean. It always does, always wants every last drop it can get.

“So let's just see what we're working with?”

Dean pushes the head between his thighs back and up and the monster goes. He feels his way, used to the flat chest, smoother than the rest of its skin. The silky underbelly. His fingers curl around the bobbing cock, hard and soaked.

Like the monster in general, it’s fucking massive. How had Dean not felt this before?

“Jesus, ok, we can work with this,” Dean mutters, running his fingers along the length, exploring. Castiel has gone very still, not moving as Dean fondles it. The length is almost the same as Dean’s whole forearm. But it’s not all thick dick. It comes to a point, a few fingers wide. It slowly increases and by the base Dean can’t get his fingers around it.

“Alright, let's give it a go,” he decides, sitting back and pulling the monster over him. Castiel doesn’t get it right away, trying to lick Dean while he tries to line them up. Dean feels stupidly small pressed up against the monster like this. He always feels small around it but this seemed more obvious somehow.

The end of the monster’s dick is dripping, warm slimy stuff and the whole thing is nice and wet. Makes it convenient Dean supposes.

The tip goes in with a bit of a push. Castiel is still again. Holding itself still as Dean eases down. His half laying, thighs up over the monster’s own spread ones. Dean pushes down a bit and more goes into him.

It feels weird.

The tongue is what Dean is used to and the dick in him just feels kinda strange. But he bounces a bit and the motion feels nice. So Dean edges down some more.

He really wants the whole thing in his ass.

Dean literally has no idea why. Pride maybe? Determination? Either way, he wants the monster cock in him.

It’s nice that he stays still, letting Dean do the work. It goes slow. Dean stops a lot and just kinda adjusts. His asshole hurts, burns a bit with the stretch. But his insides feel good.

It’s a soaked mess, the cock must be leaking more slimy stuff because Deans’ ass is overflowing, he can feel it all down his butt and soaking the bed sheets.

When he gets to the base, when it’s all in him, Dean grunts and grins. He wiggles his hips a bit. It hurts a touch, but not enough to ruin it. Dean’s got a massive cock in his ass.

He’s a god damn cock-taking champion.

He presses against his stomach and Dean can actually feel it a bit, a hardness that’s not normal. His guts all crammed up probably. Dean explores, clenching down on it, pulling back a bit and sinking back down. It goes smoothly, slicked up and Dean squeezes on it. He like that feeling he thinks.

Dean moves his body while the monster remains motionless. Laying on the bed as he is means he can't move easily. It’s too hard to move when he wants to go faster.

So Dean sits up. He’s careful not to dislodge the cock in him. Reaching out into the blackness he finds the monster’s shoulder and latches on.

The size difference becomes so much more in the new position.

Deans seated in its lap, thighs spread wide and knees just barely reaching the jut of its hips. His arms are up all the way, just reaching its shoulders and able to curl around them. It sits back, those long clawed hands curling around him carefully as it moves.

Dean whines at the feeling, his insides shifting it feels like. 

His head presses to its stomach, Dean’s not even to its chest properly. It’s so much bigger than him and Dean is so stupidly turned on by that.

He tightens his grip on the rough skin of the shoulder tops and lifts himself a bit. He drops and the slid inside him curls pleasurably. It feels amazing. Dean lifts and drops again and yeah, he’s really into getting fucked.

A hand rests on his back and Dean trails a hand down its shoulder and bicep to find a forearm. When he puts weight on it, Castiel accepts it like it’s nothing. It lets Dean fuck himself down harder, moving faster now.

Dean can feel it twitching in him, pulsing and he’s moaning a bit. He goes rough, likes the bit of hurt as he slams himself down on the cock.

“Fuck, ah, fuck,” Dean presses his face to the monster’s stomach. His thighs burn a bit but he keeps going. His own cock is rubbing between the monster and Dean’s stomach. Every now and then it hit the right spot and Dean sees stars.

He fumbles and reaches for the monster’s other arm. It obliges, curling its hands around Dean’s middle loosely. He puts his weight on his arms, gripping the forearms of the monster and just rams himself down over and over. Dean panting as he feels himself begin to come.

“M-move, thrust up,” he says, he doesn’t beg, Dean is certain he doesn’t beg.

Castiel obeys him, a few curious motions and it more than enough for Dean, he comes with a whine, shivering at the intensity of it.

He slumps against the monster, cock in his ass as he struggles to catch his breath.

Dean pushes off its chest and reached down for the bed. They're a bit high but the monster sets him down carefully.

“You didn’t get off,” Dean grumbles but he’s far too fucked out to do anything else. He’s soaked in sweat and his ass is such a slimy mess. The cock has slid halfway out and with a little shift, Dean pulls off it entirely.

His ass feels like it’s wide open, like it’s never gonna close. It’s sore but not achingly so. Dean clenches his ass and just lays there on the bed, investigating the new feeling.

He realized idly that he’s no longer a virgin full stop. He’s been sucked, tongued, and fucked.

Dean’s looking forward to doing it all again.

 

His dad shows up a week after.

Sammy doesn’t want to go. Dean has no idea what the custody laws say. Dad pretty much abandoned Sammy. Dean’s sixteen, almost seventeen, but Sammy’s still twelve. So there has to be some sort of repercussion. But his dad never minded laws before, they’ve skipped out of town plenty of times.

“I wanna stay here Dean, I don’t want to go.” Sammy sobs. “I’m so sick of moving and I can’t be tough. I just wanna stay somewhere for once.”

Dean’s heart is torn.

Sonny knows Sammy doesn’t want to go and he’s talking to their dad downstairs. The cops will show up eventually and it’ll be a huge fucking mess.

“We should stay,” Sammy whispers, reaching out and grabbing Dean’s hand. “Can we stay? Can dad just visit, he’s always traveling anyway. Please, Dean.”

It’s tempting. In another world, Dean might even consider it.

“I gotta go, Sammy, Dad needs me to help him.”

His bother’s lip quivers, the emotions and plea in his gaze shutting down. Dean can't just leave him like that. 

“You know that witch set things right, that… you know who came back?” Dean whispered, looking at the door like his dad might burst in at any second.

“Y-yeah?”

 Dean nods.

“So I gotta help dad, I should hunt and stuff, when I got… help.”

“It helps you?”

Dean nods, feeling the strong calming presence of the monster.

“So I gotta go help dad, make sure he’s ok. Not forever, but for a bit longer. And I… I think I’ll hunt too. Maybe I’ll get a place though, like Bobby does.”

Sammy nods.

“We should go then?”

Dean bites his lip. He hates the idea of it. Hates it down to his very bones.

“You could stay,” he makes himself say. Sammy stares at him. “We could visit you, we could write and call you and stuff. I know you wanna be here, that you love this place. With it chores and meal times. Nerd heaven.”

Dean smiles weakly. He feels sick but he also knows it’s the right thing.

Dean’s read books about stability and development and all that crap. Some kids adjust and some don’t. Dean might not like his life but he can deal with it, he knows there will be more one day. Sammy can’t see that. He’s gotten so pissed off in the last few years, so sullen and unhappy.

Dean doesn’t want that, he wants his brother to be happy.

“Dad would never let me stay.”

“Leave him to me. You want this Sammy, I will make it happen.”

Sammy shakes his head.

“...Nah. I’d miss you too much,” he sighs and Dean is so selfishly grateful. “If things get really bad I always thought I’d go find uncle Bobby. He told me I could stay with him if I ever wanted. That he’d come get me.”

Dean nods. Bobby had offered the same to him.

“Well do this, get through it and one day I’ll go to college and you’ll get a house like Bobby does.” Sam seems determined, eyes gleaming with a certainty and Dean can feel himself grinning in reply.

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

They go back with their father and the boy’s home fades in the rear-view mirror. Dean is sad to leave it behind, but he knows he isn’t normal. You can’t have a monster lover and be normal.

Sammy gets settled in a new school and Dean doesn’t bother. He throws himself back in training and hunting. He helps his dad find the bad guys and take them out.

Sometimes he slips up, but Dean’s not scared.

“You’re going to get yourself killed, use more care,” his dad grunts at him after a close call and Dean just nods. He had jumped in before his dad could face off with the rugaru. Dean knew if it went bad Castiel would be there to help. Dad didn’t have that.

 

Having Sammy know about Castiel made things easier. In a sense.

“What do you do with him, locked in your room?”

“Think? I dunno. It’s pitch black, I can’t actually see him. We just kinda hang out. I talk at him, he says nothing.”

“He can’t talk?”

Dean nods but then paused midway.

“He like, screeches and it’s his words but it hurts to hear it. Things rattle and fall over too. So he doesn’t do it.”

“…You’ve never seen him?”

“Nah.”

Sammy stares at Dean a beat longer before leaning back, the wheels in his head spinning full tilt.

 

Still, Dean could lock himself in his room and Sammy didn’t bother him. Just let him be.

Dean struggles not to whine as Castiel’s cock sinks into him. Dean likes everything they did but he was really developing a thing for fucking.

“Come on,” he urges, pulling the monster closer to his smaller body.

The Nephilim didn’t know how to screw at all, so Dean was teaching him. Castiel slowly learning to thrust. He’s never come and Dean wasn’t sure how to get him off. If he even could get off. But the monster liked fucking Dean, same as he liked licking him. Always eager to do either one.

Dean found himself being lifted from the shower floor sometimes. The head of that endless-feeling cock slipping up into his ass.

It was a bit scary sometimes, when Castiel lifted him like that when Dean wasn't expecting it. Dean couldn’t feel the ground or the wall, clinging to the monster alone. In the pitch black it felt sometimes like he might not be able to touch down again. The ground might just be gone. It was unnerving as hell but it was also hot, Dean found the weirdest things hot. Like being lost forever in darkness.

Like his bite mark.

Castiel had left a bite on Dean’s left thigh. It was bigger than his hand spread out. A u-shaped row of punctures. It didn’t hurt much but it hadn’t healed up. Sometimes Castiel licked it raw, sucked at Dean’s thigh until it was throbbing. Like he was marking him.

Fuck, Dean liked such weird shit. The thought of his bite made his cock ache.

 

“That’s it,” he coaxes Castiel. They were in his bedroom, Dean on his hands and knees with a massive dick opening him up.

“You’re getting good at that,” he praises in a mumble, the monster slowly pulling Dean back onto his cock. The more Dean showed and coaxed, the more it did. Gradually taking a more active roll in their fucking. Dean got the feeling he was enticing a virgin, gently getting them to relax more. It seemed like Castiel liked screwing Dean but he was so careful, so delicate in every motion.

He was afraid to hurt Dean.

It was frustrating when he wanted to be fucked but also sort of sweet when Dean thought about it. The monster wanting to take care of him.

He felt that muzzle face rest on the top of his head, the monster bending over to be able to do so.

“Hey,” Dean grins in the dark, reaching up a hand to run his fingers over the jaw. Another fat inch worked into him and he grits his teeth before sighing into the stretch. Dean was into that sting, that too full feeling reminding him what he was getting taken by.

“Dean,” his father’s voice cut through the haze and Dean jerked in shock.

His dad was in the doorway, the hall dark but not enough to obscure them. Castiel vanished away as soon as his dad hit the light and Dean was scrambling to cover his naked body. The sudden light burned his eyes and he winced, fumbling and falling off the edge of the bed like an idiot.

“Dad, I can explain,” Dean tries to say but his dad’s eyes were hard and infuriated. He pulls Dean to his feet and yanks the sheet away. His body was on display, the slick slime from the monster smeared on his thighs. The bite Castiel had given him on his thigh on display.

“Dean,” his dad whispers horrified.

“Holy shit Dean,” Sammy says from the door, staring with huge eyes.

 

They packed up and left the rental, driving full tilt away.

“What did it look like?” His dad asks for the fiftieth time.

“I never saw it,” Dean replies, red face and utterly humiliated. “It only came in the dark.”

“How many times did it show up?”

Dean squirms in his seat. “I don’t know dad. A few? It’s hard to tell. I thought it was like a weird gay dream or something.”

His dad could sniff out a lie a mile away.

“You got all jumpy when you were fourteen, freaked out of the dark. Has it been that long?” His dad sounds horrified and pissed all mixed into one enraged tone.

“No. I mean, I thought I saw something and then you told me monsters were real so I was kinda freaked out. But this thing is new.” Dean lies through his teeth and he knew his dad knew he was lying.

At least Sammy was quiet, sitting in the backseat and just listening to them back and forth. He hadn’t said a thing about what happened in the boy’s home. Hadn’t even breathed any suggestion that he knew anything at all.

 

They stop at a motel and Sammy was sent in alone.

Dean fidgets in his seat, looking out the window and waiting for the yelling to start.

“Dean,” his dad sounds weird, like almost coaxing in a strange way. “Dean, that thing, it was a monster right?”

Dean frowns because it was so obviously a monster. When his dad waited for him to answer, Dean nods weakly.

“It forced you, right?” The question was loaded with so much expectation it nearly chokes Dean. His dad was very much expecting a specific answer and Dean can tell hell would rain if he didn’t give it obediently.

“Y-yeah,” he croaks out and his dad nods, satisfied. They both know it's a lie though.

They go into the motel and dad wards the place double the usual. Sammy following along but peeking at Dean curiously.

“Leave the door open,” his dad calls when Dean goes to shower. He pauses at the door and stares incredulously at his dad. But the man stared back calmed and Dean huffs but leaves the damn door open.

They arrive at pastor Jim’s place after two days of traveling. Dean wasn’t left alone for a second. He slept in the cramped bed beside his dad. John didn't sleep at all, taking naps in the day while Dean drove so he could sit up all night. Like a freaking prison guard.

Dean hadn’t had a chance to see Castiel but he didn’t need to. He could feel him there, a steady presence.

When they arrived at the church, Dean was left in a little room with Sammy. John going to talk with pastor Jim alone.

“He thinks you’re brainwashed,” Sammy pipes up once they were alone. “I heard him talking to uncle Bobby about it on the phone, asking what could do that.”

“Great. Delightful.” Dean rubs his face with his hands.

“Don’t freak out?” He asks Sammy as he gets up, fingers hovering over the light switch. His brother’s eyes went wide but he nods his head, looking around the room as Dean hit the light.

The darkness swallowed them, but not the monster’s sort of dark. It wasn’t pitch black, there was light under the door.   

“Is he… here?”

“No,” Dean frowns, hitting the light. He could feel the monster, sure and real in his chest.

“Where are you Cas?” He cals and he could sense him trying to answer. Like a strange little tug inside him.

“It might be the church,” Sammy offers and Dean blinks at him.

“Dad wouldn’t have known, but then most monsters would be repelled by holy ground. Nephilim were descendants of Cain and thus cursed by heaven. They can’t enter holy ground.”

“Huh.”

 

Dean was pretty much barred in the room. His dad refused to let him leave and tried to get him to talk about the monster each day. Like a routine, they would sit down and Dad would ask questions and Dean would play dumb. Sometimes pastor Jim was there, sometimes he wasn’t. His dad measured the bite on Dean’s thigh and added it to his research. He made Dean strip down again and checked him. It was one of the most humiliating things for Dean to have to endure. Standing there naked while his dad inspected him.

Sammy tried to help Dean, cheering him up and researching Nephilim on the sly. Dean was kinda impressed with how good Sam was at sneaking under their dad’s nose.

Dean for the most part just slept all day and night.

He couldn’t go anywhere and his dad was watching him like a hawk. If Dean wasn’t with Sammy, he was his dad. A few times he was stuck with Pastor Jim.

“I know it must seem extreme to you, but your dad is only trying to help,” he offers calmly as Dean helps him slice potatoes and carrots for dinner. “You’ve been lured by something evil, but we’ll find a way to free you.” 

Free.

Like Dean was trapped.

“What if I don’t want to be?” He asks, just for the hell of it. To see how Jim reacted. The only man shook his head, smiling like Dean was just confused or something.

“That’s the danger of monsters Dean, they make you think you want to. Lure people in.”

Dean frowns, tipping his head in thought.

It was possible. Dean could have been lured in and manipulated. But even if he was, the monster made his life a better. Nothing could deny that. Dean felt safer with it around and he had a growing obsession with monster sex.

He trusts Castiel. Dean had his dad and Sammy. Sometime uncle Bobby. That was a pathetically tiny list and so even just one more name on it was good. More so the level of trust, Dean leaned on Castiel. Both literally and figuratively. He trusted him to keep an eye on the house at night and to help them out when hunts went wrong. He believed Castiel was going to help when needed and so far the monster hadn’t let him down. Dean didn't feel like that with anyone else. His dad once, but now he looked after the man as much as he looked after Dean.

About two weeks in, Dean realizes something was wrong with him.

The sleeping was mostly out of boredom but lately he was feeling like crap. Dean loves food, he loves to eat. But everything looks unappetizing. He was sore, his back and limbs aching when he woke and staying like that all day.

“You’re not looking so great,” Sammy tells him, pressing a hand to Dean’s head. “You’re hot.”

“Probably caught a cold,” Dean huffs but his brother wasn’t appeased. Dad arrives soon after Sammy left, checking Dean over.

“You need to eat,” he commands and Dean nods.

But once he was at the table, the food looked wrong, it made his stomach turn a bit.

“Dean,” his dad said warningly as he pushes a full plate towards him. Dean made himself take a few bites. His dad keeps glaring so Dean ate some more. Almost halfway through, his stomach heaved and Dean makes a run for it. Puking in the toilet as the food comes back up.

Dean crawls back into his bed and curls up, wishing the monster was around to snuggle. The lights feel too bright and Dean wants the pitch black again.

“Something’s wrong,” Sammy whispers to him at night and Dean grumbles in reply. “Do you know what’s wrong?”

Dean shook his head. He just felt nauseous and sore, he misses Castiel. Wants him physically closer.

“I was reading about Nephilim, there a theory that because they were made from the union of men and angels that they seek unions themselves. They pick humans and run off with them essentially. It’s just an idea with no real evidence but… it says that the humans want to go. They don’t force them.”

Dean grunts in reply, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

“Maybe the union means something,” Sammy suggests, thirteen and already so damn smart. “I think you need to go back to him, like physically touch him.”

Dean likes that idea.

He likes that idea a lot.

So the next day when dad went out to do something, Sammy slipped Pastor Jim a sleeping pill. Dean has no idea where he got it from but he wasn’t in a state to ask questions. Sweat trickled down his damp hair and he staggers a bit as he walked.

Sammy helps him, his tiny weight doing it’s best to support.

“We’re almost there.”

The church backs onto a graveyard and that faded into the forest line. The trees were thick and the midday sun was clouded enough that it seemed fairly dark.

Dean feels it the moment he crosses the fence of the graveyard.

It felt like he could breathe again without ever realizing he couldn’t. He sucks in a lungful of air and felt far better.

“Close your eyes,” Dean instructs to Sammy, already shutting his own.

A warm, massive hand closed over his eyes, making sure they were shut tightly as he was swept up in that familiar embrace. Dean feels a million times better now, slumping into the large body and clinging. The black darkness felt calming and welcoming to him.

“Missed you,” he mutters.

“Dean?” Sammy sounds unsure and Dean clung tighter.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he instructs and he could hear Sammy shift nervously.

“We gotta split, I can’t stay here,” Dean decides and Sammy’s hand swung out and caught his side, finding his arm and clutching it.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Kay.”

Dean leans up, used his free hand to find the monster’s face. He guides it down and down, bending the creature over so Dean could reach its mouth with his own. He stood on the tips of his toes and kisses it.

Dean opens his eyes slowly and he could see the shadows dispersing, the monster fading from view. He couldn’t make out anything more than a linger of darkness.

Sammy stood beside him, one hand slapped over his own face as he waited.

“Look now.”

The boy looked a bit shocked, eyes wide.

“There was something, I couldn’t see it but… it was there.”

Dean grins and nods.

“Come on, we gotta go.”

They walked until they find a road. Then they followed it while hiding in the trees until they find a town. Dean hot-wires a truck and off they went.

No money and no real plan.

“We should go to Sonny’s place,” Sam offers and Dean frowns.

“Why there?”

“Uncle Bobby won’t help. I called him and he thinks like dad and Jim do. Sonny offered us a place to stay and he doesn’t know anything about supernatural things. That witch is there though, she might help.”

“Dad will be there in like, a day.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to go. You’re seventeen Dean, you can just refuse. Sonny will side with you. If dad tries to make you, call the cops. We can make it hard.”

“What about you?”

Sammy shrugs. “I can try to stay, the social services lady there said she would help me if I wanted. That dad wasn’t fit if he was willing to leave me in the first place. If I just tell them we move all the time and are left alone lots it would be enough. Dad can’t make us prisoners Dean.”

He wasn’t as sure about that, but they had nowhere else to go really. When the gas ran low they stopped in a parking lot and stole another vehicle.

Dean pulls over when he got too tired but surprisingly he manages on a few hours alone.

Castiel was a constant presence and Dean wants to just curl up on a bed with him already. 

They made it to Sonny’s place in four days.

The man seems surprised to see them but welcomes them in. Dean goes right to bed, curling up under a blanket and just getting some shut-eye. With the curtains closed and the lights off, he could feel the monster behind him, curled up tightly to his back.

Dean finally felt like it was going to be alright.

 

“Sammy’s told me a bit,” Sonny greeted him when Dean stumbles into the kitchen, called by the siren smell of food. His stomach was grumbling and he feels ravenous.

“Oh?” Dean glances as Sammy and he shrugs.

“I told him about dad, that he just leaves us all the time and that he’s gotten really strict lately, more so with you.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Dean agrees weakly and tucks into the food. The nice thing about Sonny is that he doesn’t push Dean on it. Just nods.

“He’ll be here soon, kicking up a big fuss. I might have to go but Dean won’t,” Sammy asked and Sonny nodded.

“Dean’s of age, he can make his own choices.”

Sammy nodded, looking rather pleased.

He was severely underestimating their dad. 

The minute Sammy was distracted, Dean slipped out. He walked through the town until he got to the old house on the edge of the street.

The witch answered her door this time. Eyeing Dean curiously before letting him in.

“Do you really read palms?” He asked, there was a sign out on the lawn now.

“I do. I tell people what they want to hear and it’s a living,” she shrugged. She was mid-fifties and looked a bit stern but also dressed like a hippy. A bit like one of those stereotypical psychics too, crystal necklaces and too many rings.

“I’ve got a problem so I thought I’d see if you could help.”

“Oh?”

Dean shrugged, looking around the little room, a wood table in the middle with two chairs. Plants and crystals and all that stuff everywhere. Bookshelves of divination books and sparkly rocks.

“My dad ain’t keen on my friend.”

“Understandable.”

Dean slumped into the chair as she settled across the table in the other one.

“Sure. The thing is he’s a hunter and really intense one. He won’t stop. I gotta find a way to make him leave us alone. Without hurting him.”

The witch sat back, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“Not even a little hurt?”

“Nil,” Dean shot back.

“Perhaps the better way is to ensure you can’t be parted. Your father might find you, but he won’t be able to do anything.”

“He kills monsters for a living.”

“Would he kill you?”

Dean blinked, opening his mouth and closing it.

“I… I don’t think so. He’s my dad. I don’t doubt he loves me.”

 

Dean followed her down into her cellar. The shadows were heavy and Castiel was creeping along with them. The witch stared at the darkness like she could see him almost, but her eyes weren’t quite locked onto the right spot.

“Nephilim are rare. More legend than fact. But I do know they’re powerful and they seek a bond. I’m not sure what draws them in. Some people think it’s a pure soul?” She paused and glanced at Dean.

“Yeah, no pure soul here.”

“You might be surprised.”

She paused and inspected a shelf, picking a jar and handing it to Dean as she looked for another.

“Anyway, I do know that Nephilim are from Christianity and that they seek the union they were born from.”

“Meaning?” Dean asked.

“You gotta get married.”

 

Dean felt incredibly stupid but at least he wasn’t in a veil or anything. Just standing there, waiting to get married to a monster.

Sammy was watching the witch work with undisguised interest that just promised more trouble than Dean wanted.

“No witchcraft,” he grumbles at his brother and Sammy rolls his eyes.

They were out in the field, the same one Dean dreamed of way back when. It was dark out once more, a single torch to light the field with shadows flickering everywhere.

“What do you get from this?” he muses and the witch shrugs.

“Power mostly, last time, I saw an actual Nephilim and since then I can see more magical creatures without trying. The sheer power to them means I gain more just be being here.”

“Great.”

Dean watches her, he’s not entirely sure about the whole idea but he knows he’s got nothing to try himself.

“If things go bad, make sure you kill her,” Dean tells the darkness in the field. 

“Dean,” Sammy frowns and Dean shrugs. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Hand please,” the witch asks, choosing to ignore the comments. Dean frowns at her but with a sigh, gives her his right arm. She wraps a grey ribbon around his wrist.

“This is a ceremony to bind, a union of two souls, in life, and in death. Do you understand?”

Dean nods.

“Do you consent to this, to marry this creature. A known abomination. Do you accept all that it is and will be?”

Dean tips his head and glances at the shadows around them.

“You’re not going to turn evil on me, are you? If this was a long con, I’m gonna be so pissed,” Dean warns. The shadows seemed mildly amused and reassuring.

“You know you’re talking to nothing?” Sammy whispers and Dean glares at him.

“Am not, he’s right over there.”

“How do you know?”

“Boys?” the witch interrupts with a raised brow.

“Yeah, yeah. I consent and all that. To death till we part and beyond.”

“Until death and beyond,” the witch echoes and the other side of her ribbon fell from his fingers, The spool rolling into the shadows of the grass.

“Here is a human offering himself to you, willing to be bound with you in a union. Do you offer yourself in return, do you give yourself to him?”

Dean winces at the painful sound rising, like a shriek but far higher and stronger.

“Yes,” a voice growls, gravely and low. Dean feels a thrill rush up his spine.

“So then you are bound,” the witch said simply.

“That’s it?” Sammy hedges after a moment and the woman smirked at him.

“Wedding night. As the old way worked. It’s done when they consummate it.”

“Gross,” Sammy breathes and Dean shoves him.

“I’ll walk Sam home,” the witch offers and Dean frowns fiercely at her.

“Honestly, if I was up to no good do you think that hulking mass of power behind you would let me?”

Dean supposes she had a point.

Sammy waves and went willingly, immediately asking about how she got started in magic.

“God, please don’t let him end up a witch.” Dean sighs. “What happened to being normal and all that?”

Castiel presses to his back and the torch lighting the field went out. It wasn’t a full moon but it was cloudy out so the light was barely there.

“Hey,” Dean smirks, leaning into the warmth and tipping his head up. Castiel was enormous but he managed to bend down and kiss Dean’s mouth.

“Ready to consummate this?”

A really girly deep part of Dean thought it was sweet in a way. Getting married that was. Castiel was a monster and his kind’s main goal in their lives was to get hitched. To someone who freely wanted to marry them. Dean wondered if there were others before him, that denied Castiel.

“Come on,” he pushes away from the monster and pulls his shirt off. The witch had laid down a cloth over her stone altar and Dean sat down on it so he could pull his shoes off. Shadows tugged them for him, socks as well and a wet hot tongue lapped at his sole. Castiel seemed distinctly... giddy.

Dean had no real way of explaining how pitch darkness could give off feelings but it did. He wiggles his toes teasingly and laughed when his pants were tugged down.

“Yeah, let's do this,” he breathes, thighs spreading in invitation. The night air was cold but Castiel was radiating heat. His long tongue slithers up Dean’s ankle, wrapping around it and then dragging upward. Dean hums in contentment, liking the feeling of it, the way the saliva left behind goes wet and makes his skin hyper-aware. By the time the monster gets to his cock, it’s hard and dripping.

Dean pushes upward, hissing when that hot mouth takes him in. He’s a bit cold and Castiel’s mouth feels that much hotter. The long rows of teeth not a threat as Dean shoves into the muzzle. His fingers reach down and explore Castiel’s face. A human shape in a way, round and long, but with a muzzle, with bits of fur and hair mixed together.

An abomination.

Dean doesn’t even care. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. Dean fucking adores him anyway.

He arches off the stone and pulls at Castiel’s head, easing him up and then pushing him downward. The monster obliges and Dean swallows a moan when that tongue laps over his asshole. Steady wet touches and then the pressure of penetration.

Dean relaxes as it pushes into him, gliding into his body and making his fingers and toes twitch.

The alter is a bit off the ground so there’s room for Castiel to mount him while Dean’s laying down across it. Dean can see him rising from between his thighs. The pitch black is faded a bit, there’s a shape almost. Something so massive and looming.

Dean’s heart pounds in his chest. Castiel kneels before the stone and Dean spreads his thighs as wide as they can go. His knees touching either side of the monster’s hips.

“Come on,” he urges and sighs when he feels the wet tip pressing. Dean pushed down onto the feeling, his ass opening up and to let Castiel in.

Deeper and deeper, it always feels like it’s too much in a way. Like Dean might burst if it were just an inch more. God, he loves that feeling.

Dean moans out at the feeling of it, the first few slow thrusts, the pullback, and lunge in. It’s a wet mess, Castiel’s cock dripping every time. Dean’s grateful for it, he’d waste so much money on lube otherwise. Plus it’s hot. Everything about the monster turned Dean on.

Castiel is moving fluidly, thrusting into him. Dean’s taught him how to ride him but it feels different now. The monster is pushing a bit harder than usual, pumping a bit faster.

Dean can feel it, wet slaps on his thighs shoving him up the stone. He has to clutch at the edge and just hold on tightly. His thighs spread in offering as he takes each slam. His body protests a bit, it hurts, but Dean takes the bite of pain and turns it into pleasure. It makes it more overwhelming and he likes that.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, feeling the rush of sex, his head getting muddled with it. “Come on Cas, fuck me, fuck your little wife.”

Castiel rumbles, his voice rising. Dean braces for the pain but it’s absent. It still feels like thunder up close though, vibrating through his bones more than him just hearing it alone.

“Dean,” he rumbles and he bites his lip at the sound. His heart is pounding and his cock throbbing. Dean can’t let go of the side to jerk off but he knows he can get off on being fucked alone.

Castiel’s hand runs down his chest, it’s so much bigger than him, reminding Dean how tiny he is in comparison.

When the palm brushes over the tip of his cock he comes with a groan, shoving down on the cock stretching him open as he spills all over himself.

Castiel keeps moving, pushing a bit urgently. He’s never done it before and so Dean keeps himself spread and willing. His feet hook on the monster’s spread thighs and Dean pants as he keeps getting rammed open. The deeper Castiel thrusts the thicker his cock gets and the more Dean is filled up. It’s an intense feeling, almost to the point of ripping, but his ass holds up.

The stone under him trembles and Dean whines, arching up as Castiel pounds his ass. Dean can tell it's different now, that it should hurt more, that his frail body should break. But it doesn't, Castiel takes him properly and Dean's body accepts it.

The sky is dark but Dean can see an outline of the monster over him, the first and only view he’s had. He can barely see anything but Castiel is there. Dean looks up at him, he knows the Nephilim is looking down at him, he can feel it.

A long lunge seats Dean down on the monster’s dick. It’s hand curls around Dean and pushed him down a bit more, every last inch inside him. Dean can feel his stomach bulging with it, filled up utterly.

Castiel’s voice reverberates through Dean’s bones, humming through his flesh and muscle. It’s not a word but just a sound, a growl of a sigh.

Dean feels Castiel come in him.

Feels the sudden heat and too full feeling. He whines and jerks back, trying to push off. Castiel holds him and Dean tries to fight as his stomach cramps. He can feel it really bulging now.

Castiel pulls him off suddenly, Dean goes quickly and he feels the hot splash on his thighs as monster come pours out of his ruined ass. Dean pants for breath, feeling overwhelmed. It had felt like far too much and he was trembling in the aftermath of it.

He slumps on the stone under him, shivering at the cold wind. Castiel presses into him, arms down around him to box him in. Protecting Dean and warming him up.

He reaches up and runs a hand over Castiel’s face.

“S’all right,” his reassures him quietly. “We’re gonna be ok.”

 

Dean falls asleep on the stone and wakes in a bed at Sonny’s place. It’s a smaller room than before, with a single bed and dresser just fitting.

“Thought you’d want your own room,” Sammy offers when Dean gets up and goes looking for cereal. Sammy was giving him a look and Dean waggled his eyebrows. His little brother immediately looks away, wrinkling his nose.

“Gross Dean, so gross.”

“What is?” Sonny asks and Dean smirks as a terrible idea lights in him.

“Sammy’s been asking about sex,” he lies and Sammy makes a horrified noise. “I don’t really know how to give him a talk though.”

The man nods calmly. “Boy’s here get curious. No one wants to hear it but they need to know.”

Dean leaves them too it as he finishes his food and cleans his bowl. Sammy looks thoroughly embarrassed and humiliated and Dean smirks to himself.

He catches sight of the Impala down the street from a window.

Sighing, he showers and gets dressed. Sammy is still getting a talk when Dean sneaks out the back and goes to meet their father.

The car is empty but Dean feels someone behind him, turning in time as his dad pins him to the vehicle.

Dean thinks of fighting but stops. He reaches up and covers his dad’s eyes.

It’s midday and light out, but Castiel comes. He takes hold of Dean’s dad, not hurting him but holding tightly, his arms pinned to his side as Dean keeps his eyes covered.  His own are closed as well.

“You gotta stop. I…we bound ourselves together now. If you hurt him, you hurt me. You can’t save me dad, I’m long gone.”

“Dean,” his dad sounded truly sad.

“I’m sorry, I really am. But I can’t go back. Sammy likes it here and Sonny is a decent guy. He’ll look after him if I can’t. But you’ve got to stop now, stop hunting us, stop trying to hurt my monster.”

Dean sighs, feeling lost and weak. He presses his head to his dad’s chest.

"I love you dad, and I wanna help you, want to get all the bad guys and avenge mom. I want nothing but good things for you. But I gotta do this for me. I need to take my own happiness too. I should be allowed to." Dean's trembling a bit, he's never said anything like this before, never defied his dad in such a way.

“Just leave us alone now,” he requests.

The words are strange, echoing in a weird way.

“Get in the car and drive away. We’ll be fine.”

Dean’s dad gets in his car and drives away.

 

The witch doesn’t seem surprised to see him.

“What the hell is going on,” Dean demands.

“You’ve united with a Nephilim. What did you think it meant?”

“Not this!” Dean slams his hand into a wall and watches the drywall crack like he took a sledgehammer to it.

“Everything he is, you are now.”

“Which means?”

“I don’t know entirely, power for one thing. Everything is just legends you see.”

“Meaning,” Dean pushes, way freaked out over this. He might have just spelled his dad away.

“Nephilim want to be accepted, they wanted to be seen. They married humans, gave them their power and in return they were seen. That's the old myth.”

“You didn’t say anything about this though.”

“I thought it was obvious. You don’t have to use it, you can suppress it easily.”

“Suppress it then!”

“Honestly, so much shouting,” the witch huffed, not really upset or bothered. It was her slightly irritated but the overall calm that keeps Dean together. He feels less panicked when she acts like it was no big deal. Dean watches her fetch a woven bracelet from a box on a shelf. She slips it over his right wrist.

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. Just take it off if you change your mind. It might take a bit to work but it’ll do it.”

“What is it?”

“A block. Some witches take power, others are born with it. Natural magic. You have that now, a lot of it. This will keep it restrained. You know a lot of witches spend their whole lives trying to find a Nephilim and make a bond.”

“Good for them.”

She eyes him again, annoyed but Dean is almost certain she won't hurt him. If she tries he'll hit her with all he's got and then sick Castiel on her.

“...Give it time, it’s new and scary but you’ll manage. It’s not like some evil soul was given power. You're still you.”

Dean grunts in reply. He wants to bitch some more but Castiel feels weird. Still there in his chest but pulled strangely, not from the bracelet. Dean felt it right after he left when they sent his dad away.

So he goes back to Sonny’s place. He wants to lock the door and call Castiel to his side. It was the first time he appeared in the middle of the day outside like that, in full light.

Fuck, what if it hurt him to do it? What if Dean screwed up?

 

“Dean!” Sammy waves as soon as he sees him from the yard. “I was looking for you all over.”

“What’s up?” Dean tries to hide this morning’s drama behind a smile.

“He just showed up, Sonny thinks he’s like deranged or something. But the name. I know I’ve heard you say it before.” Sammy was pretty much dragging Dean, clutching his arm and pulling him along.

“Who? What?”

“A guy showed up a little while ago, looking for you. Said he’d wait until you got back. Said his name was Castiel.”

Dean stops dead and Sammy nearly slips.

“Bullshit.”

“Right? But he knew that name. How did he know that name? Ms. Moore said names are power.”

“Ms. Who?”

“The witch Dean,” Sammy explains shaking his head that Dean hadn’t known.

Dean follows Sammy and around the house and a man in a tan trenchcoat was on the back porch. He was watching the flowers curiously. As they approached Dean notices the bees in the flowers.

“Such curious things, there’s so much now,” the man looks up, peering at the sky and then turning his gaze on Dean.

“The world is very vast Dean.”

“Sure,” he replies wearily. The guy looks human, dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes. Ill-fitting clothing and a too still stance stand out. Inhuman was written all over him from how still he was, not slouched like a normal person.

“Who are you supposed to be?” Dean asks suspiciously and the man looks down at himself, fingers moving slowly as if he was still getting used to them.

“I’m a human. Or as close as I can get to one. I’ve never had such an ability before. Nephilim are unseen. Only once we unite can we change forms.”

“Right.”

“Dean,” he smiles, stepping forward and Dean steps back wearily. But he can feel something already, something about the man is familiar.

“Who are you?” He repeats quietly.

The man peers at him, curious. He reaches out a hand, slowly moving and Dean stood his ground. Warm human fingers curl over his eyes and Dean’s heart missed a beat at the gesture he knows all too well.

“I’m your husband.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was kinda thinking of ending it in mpreg but I liked it ending on that line too much. If you want, imagine Dean preggo with a baby and Castiel a proud papa. I'm not sure if Dean's voice/tone/character is right in this. I tried to watch some Supernatural but my boy is so jaded now! D: I miss happy Dean. I might need to watch old seasons. 
> 
> Working on other Destiel things as well as Gramander stuff. I was feeling a bit stuck so I cruised the spn kink meme and found this prompt, loved it, and went for it. Sometimes I just need some monster Castiel banging Dean. It cleanses my soul. 
> 
> But I haven't forgotten Newt! I'm gonna rewatch Fantastic Beasts and remind myself of why I need to write porn about him. 
> 
> [Feel free to talk to me on my tumblr!](https://the-miss-lv.tumblr.com/)


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